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DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


T^reasure  %oom 


THE 

COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

CONTAINING  A  VARIETY  .OF 

ORIGINAL  AND  SELECTED  PIECES ; 

TOGCTKER  WITH 

RULES, 

CALCULATED   TO 

/MPROVE  YOUTH  AND    OTHERS    IN    THE  ORNAMEKTAJ 
AND   USEFUL 

ART  OF  ELOQUENCE. 
BY  CALEB  BINGHAM,  A.  M. 

Author  of  The  American  Preceptor,  Toung  Ladys  Accidi/ice^  tT^. 


"  Cato  cultivated  Eloquence,  as  a  necefTary  mean  for  defending 
the  Rights  of  the  People,  and  for  enforcing  good  CcunfeJs." 

ROLLIN. 


FIFTH  TROY  EDITION. 

..^....♦..<^..o....^., 

PUBLISHED  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OF  CONGRESS. 


TROY: 

PRINTED  AND  SOLD  BT  PARKER  AND  BlIS^, 

AT  THE  TROV   BOOK-STORE,  SIGN  OF  THE  BIBLE, 


1811. 


yovb^ 


PREFACE. 

NorwiTHSTANDING  the  multiplicity  of  School-Books 
fjaiv  in  ufey  it  has  been  often  ftiggejled,  that  a  SeleBion^ 
calculated  particularly  for  Dialogue  and  Declamation^ 
would  be  of  extenftve  utility  in  our  feminaries. 

The  art  of  Oratory  needs  no  encomium.  To  cultivate 
its  rudiments,  and  diffufe  its  fpirit  among  the  Touth  of 
America,  is  the  defign  of  this  Book, 

Of  the  many  pieces  nvhich  this  volume  contains^  three 
only  are  to  be  found  in  any  publication  of  the  kind,  A 
large  proportion  is  entirely  original.  To  thofe,  who  have 
ajjlfted  him  in  this  party  the  author  returns  his  warmejl 
acknowledgments. 

The  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR  is  defgned  for  a 
Second  Part  to  the  AMERICAN  PRECEPTOR  5  fot 
this  reafon,  no  pieces  are  inferted  from  that  Book. 

As  no  advantage  could  arife  from  a  methodical  ar- 
rangement,  the  Author  has  preferred  variety  to  fy stem.. 
In  his  choice  of  materials,  it  has  been  his  objeEl  to  feleft 
fuch  asfJjould  infpire  the  pupil  with  the  ardour  of  elo- 
quence, and  the  love  of  virtue.  He  has /pared  no  pains 
to  render  the  Work,  in  every  refpeEl,  worthy  of  the  gen- 
erous patronage,  which  a  liberal  public  have  be/lowed  on 
his  former  publications. 

Bofton,  May  i7tb,  1797. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

GENER.Al.  InftrucStions  for  Speaking         -          -            -  7 

Oration  on  Eloquence              -              -            Perkins  30 

Speech  in  Congrefs,  1789           -              -          Washington  34 

Speech  of  a  Roman  General           -            -           P.  Emilius  36 

Exhortation  on  Temperance  in  Pleafure           -           Bi-air  38 

Judah's  Plea  for  Benjamin,  before  JoftpJi          -          Philo  41 

Plea  in  hehalf  of  Thomas  Muir           -             -            Muir  43 

On  the  ftarry  Heavens          _             -              -           HERVF.r  44 

Paper,  a  Poem              -               -               -               Franklin  46" 

Speech  before  the  Roman  Senate           -             -            Cato  48 

DialoguebetvveenDuellift,8avage,andMerciiryLTTTLETON  50 

Speech  of  an  Indian  Chief              -              -              -              -  54 

On  thr  Creation  of  the  World              -              -           Blair  S5 

Lines  fpokcn  by  a  little  Boy           -              -            Everett  57 

Speech  in  the  Britifli  Parliament,  1766        -         -        Pitt  58 

Scene  from  the  Farce  of  Lethe         -              -         Gar  rick  6f 

Eulogy  on  Dr.  I'Vanklin           -            -            -            pAUCiiEr  64 

Epilogue  to  Addiibn's  Cato            _             _             -            .  69 

Self-Conceit,  an  Addrefs  by  a  fmall  Boy         -           -           -  70 

Dialogue  between  Howard  and  Lefter              -                -  yz 

Chrift's  Crucifixion           _              _           -         Cumberland  74 

The  Wonders  of  Nature              -                 -              Hervev  77 

Dialogue  on  Piiyfiognomy            ~              *              -              -  79 

Oration  at  the  Feftival  of  Gratitude              -            Carnot  Sz 

Addrefs  to  the  Prcfident  of  the  United  States             Adet  85 

Prefulent's  Anfwer         -              _             -          Washington  87 

The  opprefdve  l^andlord,  a  Dialogue            -           -            -  88 

Speech  in  the  liritifli  Parliament,  17 70              Mansfield  94 

Oil  the  Day  of  Judgment          -              _             ■          Davies  97 

Chrift  triumphant  over  the  apoftate  Angels            Milton  loo 

Slaves  in  Barbary,  a  Drama  in  two  Adls                 Everett  102 

Speech  in  the  Britifh  Parliament,  1770             -             Pitt  119 

Plea  before  a  Roman  Court             -             -          Socrates  laa 

Dialogue  on  Cowardice  and  Knavery              -               -  ia6 

Speech  in  the  Britifli  Parliament              -              Sheridan  130 

Extradl  from  an  Oration  againft  Catiline                    Cicero  131 

Defcription  of  the  tirft  American  Congrefs              Barlov/  135 

Speech  of  a  French  General  to  his  Army        BuoNArARiE  135 

Refle(Slions  over  the  Grave  of  a  Young  Man           Hervey  136 

Scene  from  theDramaof  "Mofesin  theBulruflies"H  Moore  137 

Speech  of  a  Roman  General         -              -           C  Cassius  14a 

Speeeh  in  the  Britifli  Parliament,  1784         -          Erskine  144 

Addrefs  to  the  people  of  the  U.  States            Washington  147 

Dialogue  on  the  Choice  of  Bufinefs  for  Life          -           -  150 

Speech  of  2"  French  General         -          -          Buonaparte  154 

Speech  in  the  ^ritiil J  Parliament,  .1777         -        -^       Pjtt  j^d 
A  z 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Page 

Dialogue  between  a  Schoolmafter  and  School-Committee  158 

Speech  in"the  Britifli  Parliament,  1770             -             Pitt  165 

On  the  general  Judgment-Day          -             -           Dwight  169 

On  the  Works  of  Creation  and  Providence             Hervey  171 

Speech  in  the  Britifli  Parliament            -              -              Fox  17a 

The  Conjurer,  a  Dialogue             -              -              Everett  175 

Speech  in  the  Britilli  Parliament,  1775              -             Pitt  184 

SptLch  of  the  Caledonian  General          -           Galgacuus  185 

Alodern  Education,  a  Dialogue             -              _             _  189 

On  the  Exiftence  of  God,  a  Sermon             -              Maxcy  195 

The  Dignity  of  Human  Nature          -             -           Burges  203 

Infernal  Conference              -               -               Cumberland  205 

Speech  in  the  Britifli  Parliament,  1777          '  -              Pitt  214 

On  the  Day  of  Judgment               -                -               Young  217 

The  Diffipated  Oxford  Student          Altered  from  Burney  2x9 

Speech  in  Congrefs,  on  the  Britifli  Treaty         -         Ames  ajo 

Oration  on  Independence,  July  4,  1796           -            Blake  234 

General  Defcription  of  America,  a  Poem               Everett  237 

Dialogue  Between  a  Mafter  and  Slave            -             Aikin  240 

Speech  in  the  Irifli  Parliament         -           -         O'Connor  243 

Scene  from  the  Tragey  of  Tamerlane             -              Rowe  248 

Speech  in  the  Britifli  Parliament         -              ■«           Barre  254 

TheLaft^ay            _             -             _             ,         Everett  254 

Dialogue  on  I^oquacity              -             ♦             -             -  237 

American  Sages             -                -                 r              Barlow  261 

Speech  in  the  Britiflli  Parliament,  1777              •             Pitt  26a 

Scene  from  the  Tragedy  of  Cato               -               Addison  265 

Oration,  delivered  at  Bofl:on,  July  4,  1794               Phillips  268 

Dialogue  between  a  White  Man  and  an  Indian     Everett  269 

Oration,  pronounced  at  Boflon,  July  4,  1796         Lathrop  27^ 

Dialogue  between  Edward  and  Harry         -          Evereit  275 

David  and  Goliath             .             ,             *          H.  Moore  27^ 

Oration  on  the  Powers  of  Eloquence             -                -  281 

Dialogue  on.  Civilization              -             .              -             -  289 

Oration  on  the  Manumiffion  of  Slaves           -          Miller  29J 

A  Forenfic  Difpute            _             _             -              Everett  295 

Oration,  delivered  at  Bofton,  March  jth,  1780        Masoji  jos^ 


THB 


COLUxMBIAN  ORATOR,  &c. 


INTRODUCTION. 


General  Directions  for  Speaking;  extracted 
from  various  authors. 


OF  PRONUNCIATION  IN  GENERAL. 


THE  beft  judges  among  the  ancients  have  repre- 
fented  Pronunciation,  which  they  likewife  called 
Adtion,  as  the  principal  part  of  an  orator's  province ; 
from  whence  he  is  chiefly  to  expc<ft  fuccefs  in  the  art 
of  perfuafion.  When  Cicero,  in  the  perfon  of  CraiTus, 
has  largely  and  elegantly  difcourfed  upon  all  the  other 
parts  of  oratory,  coming  at  laft  to  fpealc  of  this,  he  fays, 
«'  All  the  former  have  their  effe<ft  as  they  are  pronoun- 
ced. It  is  the  ai^ion  alone  which  governs  in  (peaking ; 
without  which  the  beft  orator  is  of  no  value ;  and  is 
often  defeated  by  one,  in  other  refpe(fks,  much  his  in- 
feriour."  And  he  lets  us  know,  that  Demoflhenes  was 
of  the  fame  opinion ;  who,  when  he  was  afked  what 
was  the  principal  thing  in  oratory,  replied,  Action ; 
and  being  afked  a^ain  a  fecond  and  third  time,  what 
Wits  next  conliderable,  he  ftill  made  the  fame  anfwer< 


d  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

And,  indeed,  if  he  had  not  judged  this  highly  necef. 
fary  for  an  orator,  he  would  fcarcely  have  taken  fo 
much  pains  in  correcting  thofe  natural  defe(Sts,  under 
which  he  laboured  at  firft,  in  order  to  acquire  it.  For 
he  had  both  a  weak  voice,  and  likewife  an  impediment 
in  his  fpeech,  fo  that  he  could  not  pronounce  diftin«5lly 
fome  particular  letters.  The  former  of  which  defeats 
he  conquered,  partly  by  fpeaking  as  loud  as  he  could 
upon  the  fhore,  when  the  fea  roared  and  was  boifter- 
ous ;  and  partly,  by  pronouncing  long  periods  as  he 
walked  up  hill ;  both  of  which  methods  contributed 
to  ftrengthen  his  voice.  And  he  found  means  to  ren- 
der his  pronunciation  more  clear  and  articulate,  by  the 
help  of  fome  little  ftones  put  under  his  tongue.  Nor 
was  he  lefs  careful  in  endeavouring  to  gain  the  habit 
of  a  becoming  and  decent  ejefture ;  for  which  purpofe 
he  ufed  to  pronounce  his  difcourfes  alone  before  a  large 
glafs.  And  becaufe  he  had  an  ill  cuftom  of  drawing 
up  his  (houlders  when  he  fpoke,  to  amend  that,  he 
ufed  to  place  them  under  a  fword,  which  hung  over 
him  with  the  point  downwards. 

Such  pains  did  this  prince  of  the  Grecian  orators  take 
to  remove  thofe  difficulties,  which  would  have  been 
fuffi.ient  to  diicourage  an  inferiour,  and  lefs  afpiring 
genius.  And  to  how  great  a  perfe^ion  he  arrived  in 
his  action,  under  all  thefe  difadvantages,  by  his  inde- 
fatigable diligence  and  application,  is  evident  from  the 
confcffion  of  his  great  adverfary  and  rival  in  oratory, 
Efchines  j  who,  when  he  could  not  bear  the  difgrace  of 
being  worfted  by  Demofthenes  in  the  caufe  of  Cteiiphon, 
retired  to  Rhodes.  And  being  defired  by  the  inhab- 
itants, he  recited  to  them  his  own  oration  upon  that 
occafion  •,  the  next  day  they  requefted  of  him  to  let  them 
hear  that  of  Demolthenes  ;  which,  having  pronounced 
in  a  moft  graceful  manner,  to  the  admiration  of  all  who 
were  prefent,  "  How  much  more  (fays  he)  would  you 
have  wondered,  if  you  had  heard  him  fpeak  it  himfelf !" 

We  might  add  to  thefe  authorities  the  judgment  of 
Quintillian ;  who  fays,  th^v  "It  is  not  of  fo  much  ma- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  f 

inerit  what  our  compofitions  are,  as  how  they  are  pro* 
nounced  *,  fince  it  is  the  manner  of  the  delivery,  by 
which  the  audience  is  moved." 

The  truth  of  this  fentiment  of  the  ancients,  concern- 
ing the  power  and  efficacy  of  pronunciation,  might  be 
proved  from  many  initances  :  but  one  or  two  may  here 
fuffice.  Hortenfius,  a  cotemporary  with  Cicero,  and 
while  living,  next  to  him  in  reputation  as  an  orator, 
was  highly  applauded  for  his  a<Stion.  But  his  orations 
after  his  death,  as  Qnintillian  tells  us,  did  not  appear 
anfvvcrable  to  his  charafler ;  from  whence  he  juftly 
concludes,  there  muft  have  been  fomething  pleafing 
when  he  fpoke,  by  which  he  gained  his  character, 
which  was  loft  in  reading  them. 

But  perhaps  there  is  fcarcely  a  more  confiderable  in- 
ftance  of  this  than  in  Cicero  himfelf.  After  the  death 
of  Pompey,  when  Cefar  had  gotten  the  government 
into  his  own  hands,  many  of  his  acquaintance  interce- 
ded with  him  in  behalf  of  their  relations  and  friends, 
who  had  been  of  the  contrary  party  in  the  late  wars. 
Among  others,  Cicero  folicited  for  his  friend  Ligarius  ; 
which  Tubero  underftanding,  who  owed  Ligarius  a 
grudge,  oppofed  j  and  undertook  to  reprefent  him  to 
Cefar  as  unworthy  of  his  mercy.  Cefar  himfelf  was 
prejudiced  againft  Ligarius ;  and  therefore,  when  the 
^aufe  was  to  come  before  him,  he  faid,  "  We  may 
venture  to  hear  Cicero  difplay  his  eloquence ;  for  I 
know  the  perfon  he  pleads  for  to  be  an  ill  man,  and 
my  enemy." 

But  however,  in  the  courfe  of  his  oration,  Cicero  fo 
wrought  upon  his  paffions,  that  by  the  frequent  altera- 
tion in  his  countenance,  the  emotions  of  his  mind  were 
very  confpicuous.  And  when  he  came  to  touch  upon 
the  battle  of  Pharfalia,  which  had  given  Cefar  the  em.- 
pire  of  the  world,  he  reprefented  it  in  fuch  a  moving 
and  Uvely  manner,  that  Cefar  could  no  longer  contain 
himfelf,  but  was  thrown  into  fuch  a  fit  of  Ihivering, 
that  he  dropped  the  papers  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 
This  was  the  more  remarkable,  becaufe  Cefar  was  him- 


I  a  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

felf  one  of  the  greatefl:  orato"s  of  that  age ;  knew  all 
the  arts  of  addrefs,  and  avenues  to  the  paflions;  and  con- 
fequently  was  better  prepared  to  guard  againft  them. 

But  neither  his  (kill,  nor  refolution  of  mind,  was  of 
fufficient  forcv'i  again il:  the  power  of  oratory  ;  but  the 
•onqueror  of  the  world  became  a  conqueft  to  the  charms 
of  Cicero's  eloquence ;  fo  that  contrary  to  his  inten- 
sion, he  pardoned  Ligariu::.  Now  that  oration  is  itill 
extant,  and  appears  exceedingly  well  calculated  to 
touch  the  foft  and  tender  paflions  and  fprings  of  the 
foul  -,  but  we  believe  it  can  icarcely  be  difcernible  to 
any,  in  readmg  it,  how  it  fhould  have  had  fo  furprifing 
an  t&c£t ;  which  muft  therefore  have  been  chiefly  ow- 
hig  to  the  wonderful  addrefs  of  the  fpeaker. 

The  more  natural  the  pronunciation  is,  the  more 
moving  it  will  be ;  iince  the  perfection  of  art  confifts 
in  its  neareft  refemblance  to  nature.  And  therefore 
it  is  not  without  good  reafon,  that  the  ancients  make 
it  one  qualification  of  an  orator,  that  he  be  a  good  man  j 
becaufe  a  perfon  of  this  character  will  make  the  caufe 
he  efpoufes  his  own ;  and  the  more  fenlibly  he  is 
touched  with  it  himfelf,  the  more  natural  will  be  his 
action  ;  and  of  courfe,  the  more  ealily  will  he  afft^Cl 
others.  Cicero  fays,  "  It  is  certain  that  truth  (by 
which  he  means  nature)  in  every  thing  excels  imita-» 
tion  'f  but  if  that  were  fufficient  of  itfelf  in  aClion,  wc 
fliould  have  no  occafion  for  art." 

Iii  his  opinion  therefore  (and  who  was  ever  a  bettef 
judge  ?)  art  in  this  cafe,  as  well  as  in  many  others,  if 
well  managed,  will  affift  and  improve  nature.  But  this 
is  not  all ;  for  fomeiimes  we  find  the  force  of  it  fo  great 
and  powerful,  that,  where  it  is  wholly  counterfeit,  it 
will  for  the  time  work  the  fame  efleCt  as  if  it  were 
founded  in  truth.  This  is  well  known  to  thofe  who 
have  been  converfant  with  the  reprefentations  of  the 
theatre.  In  tragedies,  though  we  are  fenfible  that  ev- 
ery thing  we  fee  and  hear  is  counterfeit ;  yet  fuch  is 
the  power  of  a<51:io»),  that  we  are  oftentimes  affected  by 
it  m  the  fame  maaner  as  if  it  were  all  reality* 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  ii 

Anger  and  refentment  at  the  appearance  of  cruelty, 
concern  and  folicitude  for  dirtrefTed  virtue,  rife  in  our 
breafts ;  and  tears  arp  extorted  from  us  for  opprelTed 
innocence :  though  at  tlie  fame  time,  perhaps,  we  are 
ready  to  laugh  at  ourfelves  for  being  thus  decoyed.  If 
art  then  has  fo  great  an  influence  upon  us,  when  fup- 
ported  by  fancy  and  imagination  only,  how  powerful 
mud  be  tlie  effe^l  of  a  juil  and  Hvely  reprefentation  of 
what  we  know  to  be  true. 

How  agreeable  it  is  both  to  nature  and  reafon,  that  a 
Wirmth  of  expreffion  and  vehemency  of  motion  (liould 
rife  in  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  fubjejft,  and 
concern  of  the  fpeaker,  will  further  appear  by  looking 
back  a  little  into  the  more  early  and  limple  ages  of  the 
world.  For  the  higher  we  go,  the  more  we  fhall  find 
of  both.  The  Romans  had  a  very  great  talent  this 
way,  and  the  Greeks  a  greater.  The  eaftern  nations 
^celled  in  it,  and  particularly  the  Hebrews. 

Nothing  can  equal  the  ftrength  and  vivacity  of  the 
figures  they  employed  in  their  difcourfe,  and  the  very 
adtions  they  ufed,  to  exprefs  their  fentiments ;  fuch  as 
putting  allies  on  their  heads,  and  tearing  their  gar- 
ments, and  covering  themfelves  with  fackcloth  under 
any  deep  diftrefs  and  forrow  of  mind.  And  hence,  n6 
doubt,  arofe  thofe  furprifing  effedls  of  eloquence,  which 
we  never  experience  now. 

And  what  is  faid  here,  with  refpecH:  to  the  a<Slion  of 
the  eaftern  nations,  was  in  a  good  meafure  cuftomary 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  ;  if  not  entirely  of  the 
fame  kind,  yet  perhaps  as  vehement  and  exprefGve. 
They  did  not  think  language  of  itfelf  fufficient  to  ex- 
prefs the  height  of  their  paflions,  unlefs  enforced  by 
uncommon  motions  and  geftures.  Thus,  when  Achil- 
les had  driven  the  Trojans  into  their  city  with  the 
greateft  precipitation  and  terror,  and  only  He(Slor  ven- 
tured to  tarry  without  the  gates  to  engage  him,  Homer 
reprefents  both  king  Priam  and  his  queen  under  the 
higheft  confternation  for  the  danger  of  their  fon.  And 
Ikerefore,  in  order  to  prevail  with  him  to  come  into  tke 


12  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

city  and  not  fight  with  Achilles,  they  not  only  entreat 
him  from  the  walls  in  the  moft  tender  and  moving  lan- 
guage imaginable ;  but  they  tear  off  their  grey  locks 
with  their  hands,  and  adjure  him  to  comply  with  their 
reqriefi:. 

The  poet  knew  vtry  well,  that  no  words  of  them- 
felves  could  reprefent  thofe  agonies  of  mind  he  endeav- 
oured to  convey,  unlefs  heightened  by  the  idea  of  fuch 
acftions  as  were  cxprtllive  of  the  decpeft  forrow.  In 
one  of  Cicero's  orations,  he  does  not  ftick  to  argue  in 
this  manner  v.nth  his  adverfary.  "  Would  you  talk  thus 
(fays  he)  if  you  were  ferious  ?  Would  you,  who  are 
wont  to  difpiay  your  eloquence  fo  vrarmly  in  the  dan- 
ger of  others,  ^di  fo  coldly  in  your  own  ?  Where  is  that 
concern,  that  ardour,  which  ufed  to  extort  pity  even 
from  children  ?  Here  is  no  emotion  either  of  mind  or 
body  ;  neither  the  forehead  ftruck,  nor  the  thigh  j  nor 
fo  much  as  a  ftamp  of  the  foot.  Therefore,  you  have 
been  fo  far  from  inflaming  our  minds,  that  you  have 
fcarcely  kept  us  avv'ake." 

The  ancients  had  perfons,  whofe  proper  bufinefs  it 
was  to  teach  them  how  to  regulate  and  manage  their 
voice ;  and  others,  who  inflrucled  them  in  the  whole 
art  of  pronounciation,both  as  to  their  voice  and  geftures, 
Thefe  latter  were  generally  taken  from  the  theatrci 
being  fome  eminent  experienced  actors.  But  though 
they  made  ufe  of  a(Stors  to  inftrudl  their  youth  in  form- 
ing their  fpeech  and  geftures  ;  yet  the  a6lion  of  an  or- 
ator was  very  different  from  that  of  the  theatre. 

Cicero  very  plainly  reprefents  this  diftindion,  in  the 
words  of  CrafTus  -,  when  fpeaking  of  orators,  he  fays, 
"The  motions  of  the  body  ought  to  be  fuited  to  the 
•xpreffions,  not  in  a  theatrical  way,  mimicking  the 
words  by  particular  gefticulations  j  but  in  a  manner 
cxpreflive  of  the  general  fenfe  ;  with  a  fedate  and  manly 
inflecStion  of  the  fides ;  not  taken  from  the  flage  and 
aciors,  but  from  the  exercife  of  arms  and  the  paleflra.*' 
And  Quintilian  fays  to  the  fame  purpofe,  "  Every 
^dhire  and  motion  of  the  comedians  is  not  to  be  imi- 


THE  COLUMBI  AN  OR  ATOR.  1 3 

tated,  nor  to  the  fame  degree."  They  thought  the 
a£lion  of  the  the?.tre  too  light  and  extravagant  for  the 
imitation  of  an  orator;  and  therefore,  though  they 
employed  atflors  to  inform  young  perfons  in  the  firft 
rudiments,  yet  they  were  afterwards  fent  to  fchools,  de- 
figned  on  purpofe  to  teach  them  a  decent  and  graceful 
management  of  their  bodies. 

Being  thus  far  prepared,  they  were  afterwards  fent 
to  the  fchools  of  the  rhetoricians.  And  here,  as  their 
buiinefs  was  to  cultivate  their  (tyle,  and  gain  the  whole 
art  of  eloquence,  fo  particularly  10  acqufre  a  juft  and 
accurate  pronunciation  by  thofe  exerciics,  in  which  for 
that  end  they  were  conflantly  employed.  Nor,  after 
all  this  pains  and  indudry,  did  they  yet  think  them- 
felves  fufficiently  qualified  to  take  upon  them  the  char- 
acter of  orators.  But  it  was  their  conftant  cullom  to 
get  together  fome  of  their  friends  and  acquaintance, 
who  were  proper  judj^es  of  fuch  performances,  and  de- 
claifu  before  them  in  private. 

The  bufinefs  of  thefe  perfons  was  to  make  obferva- 
tions  both  on  their  language  and  pronunciation.  And 
they  were  allowed  the  greatelt  freedoni  to  take  notice 
of  any  thing  thought  to  be  amifs,  either  as  to  inaccuracy 
of  method,  impropriety  of  flyle,  or  indecency  of  their 
voice  or  a(ftions.  This  gave  them  an  opportunity  to 
corre<St  any  fuch  defe<fts  at  firft,  before  they  became 
habirual.  What  efFecSts  might  not  juftly  be  expe<5\ed 
from  fuch  an  inftitution.''  Perfons  trained  up  in  this 
manner,  whh  all  thofe  advantages,  joined  to  a  good 
natural  genius,  could  not  f  lil  of  making  very  complete 
orators.  Though  even  after  they  came  to  appear  in 
puWic,  they  did  not  lay  afide  the  cutlom  of  declaiming. 

The  influence  of  founds,  either  to  raife  or  allay  our 
pafli  ns,  is  evident  from  mufic.  And  certainly  the 
harmony  of  a  fine  difcourfe,  well  and  gracefully  pro- 
nounced, is  as  capable  of  moving  us,  if  not  in  a  way 
fo  violent  and  ecftatic,  yet  not  lefs  powerful,  and  more 
agn  cable  to  our  rational  faculties.  As  perfons  are  dif- 
5^  ferentiy  atFe<^ted  when  they  fpeak,  fo  they  naturally 
>^  B 


14  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

alter  the  tone  of  their  voice,  though  they  do  not  attend 
to  it.  It  rifes,  finks,  and  has  various  inflections  given 
it,  according  to  the  prefent  ftate  and  difpofition  of  the 
mind.  When  the  mind  is  calm  and  fedate,  the  voice  is 
moderate  and  even;  when  the  former  is  dejected  with 
forrow,  the  latter  is  languid;  and  when  that  is  inflam- 
ed by  paflion,  this  is  elevated. 

It  is  the  orator's  buiinefs,  therefore,  to  follow  nature, 
and  to  endeavor  that  the  tone  of  his  voice  appear  natural 
and  unafFeded.  And  for  this  end,  he  muft  take  care  to 
fuit  it  to  the  nature  of  the  fubjecl;  but  ftill  fo  as  to  be 
always  grave  and  decent.  Some  perfons  continue  a 
difcourfe  in  fuch  a  low  and  drawling  manner,  that  they 
can  fcarcely  be  heard  by  their  audience.  Others  again 
hurry  on  in  fo  loud  and  boifterous  a  manner,  as  if  they 
imagined  their  hearers  were  deaf.  But  all  the  mufic 
and  harmony  of  voice  lies  between  thefe  extremes. 

/Perhaps  nothing  is  of  more  importance  to  a  fpeaker, 
than  a  proper  attention  to  accent,  emphafis,  ond  ca- 
dence. Every  word  in  our  language,  of  more  than  one 
fyllable,  has  at  leaft,  one  accented  fyllable.  This  fylla- 
ble  ought  to  be  rightly  known,  and  the  word  fliould  be 
pronounced  by  the  fpeaker  in  the  fame  manner  as  he 
would  pronounce  it  in  ordinary  converfation.  By  em- 
phafis, we  diflinguifh  thofe  words  in  a  fentence  which 
we  efleem  the  moft  important,  by  laying  a  greater 
flrefs  of  voice  upon  them  than  we  do  upon  the  others. 
And  it  is  furprifing  to  obferve  how  the  fenfe  of  a 
phrafe  may  be  altered  by  varying  the  emphafis.  The 
following  example  will  ferve  as  an  illustration. 

This  fhort  queftion,  "  Will  you  ride  to  town  to- 
day?" may  be  underftood  in  four  different  ways,  and, 
confequently,  may  receive  four  different  anfwers,  ac- 
cording to  the  placing  of  the  emphafis. 

If  it  be  pronounced  thus;  Will  you  ride  to  town 
to-day?  the  anfwer  may  properly  be,  No;  I  fhall  {^ndi 
iny  ion.  If  thus;  Will  you  ride  to  town  to-day.'* 
Anfwer,  No;  I  intend  to  v/alk.     Will  you  ride  X.% 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 5 

town  to-day?.  No;  I  fliall  ride  into  the  country.  Will 
you  ride  to  town  to-day?  No;  but  I  fliall  to-morrow. 

This  fliovvs  hoiv  neceflary  it  is  that  a  fpeaker  iTiould 
know  how  to  place  his  emphails.  And  the  only  rule 
for  this  is  that  he  iludy  to  attain  a  jud  conception  of 
the  force  and  fpirit  of  the  fentiments  which  he  delivers. 
There  is  as  great  a  difference  between  one  who  lays 
his  emphafis  properly,  and  one  who  nays  no  regard  to 
it,  or  places  it  wrong,  as  there  is  between  one  who 
plays  on  an  inftrumcnt  with  a  mafcerly  hand,  and  the 
mofi:  bungling  performer. 

Cadence  is  the  reverfe  of  emphafis.  It  is  a  depref- 
fion  or  lowering  of  the  voice;  and  commonly  falls  up- 
on the  lail:  fyllable  in  a  fentence.  It  is  varied,  howev- 
er, according  to  the  fenfe.  When  a  queftion  is  afked, 
it  feldom  falls  upon  the  laft  word;  and  many  fentences 
require  no  cadence  at  all. 

Every  perfon  who  fpeaks  in  public,  fhould  endeavor, 
if  he  can,  to  fill  the  place  where  he  fpeaks.  But  (i'xW 
he  ought  to  be  careful  not  to  exceed  the  natural  key 
of  his  voice.  If  he  does,  it  will  neither  be  foft  nor 
agreeable;  but  either  harfh  and  rough*,  or  too  flirill  and 
fqueaking.  Befides,  he  will  not  be  able  to  give  every 
fyllable  its  full  and  diftincSl  found;  which  will  render 
what  he  fays  obfcure,  and  difficult  to  be  underftood. 
He  fhould  therefore  take  care  to  keep  his  voice  within 
reach,  fo  as  to  have  it  under  management,  that  he  may 
raife  or  fink  it,  or  give  it  any  inflec^tion  he  thinks  prop- 
er; which  it  will  not  be  in  his  power  to  do,  if  he  put 
a  force  upon  it,  and  ftrain  it  beyond  its  natural  tone. 

The  like  caution  is  to  be  ufed  againft  the  contrary 
c^reme,  that  the  voice  be  not  fuffered  to  fink  too  low. 
This  will  give  the  fpeaker  pain  in  raifing  it  again  to  its 
proper  pitch,  and  be  no  lefs  ofFenfive  to  the  hearers. 
The  medium  between  thefe  two  is  a  moderate  and  ev- 
en voice.  But  this  is  not  the  fame  in  all;  that  which 
is  moderate  in  one  would  be  high  in  another.  Every 
perfon  therefore  muft  regulate  it  by  the  natural  key  of 
his  own  voice,     A  calm  and  fedaie  voice  is  generally 


i6  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

befi;  as  a  moderate  found  is  mofl  pleafmg  to  the  ear, 
if  h  be  clear  and  dilHn^l.  But  this  equality  of  the 
voice  muft  alfo  be  accompanied  with  a  variety :  other- 
wife  there  can  be  no  harmony;  fmce  all  harmony  con- 
fiils  in  variety. 

Nothing  is  lefs  pleafing  than  a  difcourfe  pronounced 
throughout  in  one  continued  tone  of  the  voice,  with- 
out any  alteration.  The  equality,  therefore,  we  are 
here  fpeaking  of,  admits  a  variety  of  inflec^lions  and 
changes  within  the  fame  pitch.  And  when  that  is  al- 
tered, the  gradations,  \.*hjrher  higher  or  lower,  fliould 
be  ih  gentle  and  regular  as  to  preferve  a.  due  prc>por- 
tion  of  the  parts,  and  harmony  of  the  whole;  which 
cannot  be  dnncy  when  the  voice  is  fuddenly  varied  with 
too  great  a  diltindlion.  And  therefore  it  fliould  move 
from  one  key  to  another,  fo  as  rather  to  glide  like  a 
gentle  ftream,  than  pour  down  like  a  rapid  torrent,  as 
an  ingenious  writer  has  well  exprefied  it. 

But  an  affected  variety,  ill  placed,  is  as  difagreeable, 
to  a  judicious  audience,  as  the  want  of  it,  where  the 
fubje6t  requires  it.  We  may  find  fome  perfons,  in  pro- 
nouncing a  grave  and  plain  difcourfe,  affcr<Sl  as  many 
different  tones,  and  variations  of  their  voice,  as  if  they 
were  ailing  a  comedy;  which  is  doubtlefs  a  very  great 
impropriety.  But  the  orator's  province  is  not  barely 
to  apply  to  the  mind,  but  like  wife  to  the  paffions; 
which  req;iire  a  great  variety  of  the  voice,  high  or 
low,  vehement  or  languid,  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  pafuons  he  deli,^ns  to  afFeft.  So  that  for  an  orator 
always  to  ufe  the  iame  tone  or  degree  of  his  voice,  and 
expe^Si  to  anAver  all  his  views  by  ic,  would  be  much  the 
fame  thing  as  if  a  phyfirian  fhould  propofe  to  cure  |^l 
diftempers  by  one  medicine.  And,  as  a  perfedl  mono- 
tony is  always  unpleafant,  fo  it  can  never  be  neceifary 
in  any  difcourfe. 

That  fome  fentences  ought  to  be  pronounced  fifter 
than  others  is  very  manifeih  Gay  and  fprightly  ideas 
fh-)i:id  not  oniy  be  exprefied  louder,  but  a!fo  quicker 
than  fuch  as  are  melancholy.     And  when  we  prefs  an 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 7 

opponent,  the  voice  (liouici  be  brifk.  But  to  hurry  on 
in  a  precipitant  in;inner  without  paiifitig,  till  ftopped 
for  \v,int  of  breath,  is  certainly  a  very  great  fault.  This 
dedroys  not  only  the  neceiTsry  diit  notion  between  fen- 
tence  and  fentence,  but  iikewife  betv/een  the  feveral 
words  of  the  fame  fentence;  by  which  mean,  all  the 
grate  of  fpeaking  is  loll,  and  in  a  great  meafure,  the 
advantage  of  hearing. 

Young  perfins  are  very  liable  to  this,  efpecially  at 
firft  fetring  out.  Anvl  it  often  arifes  from  diffiJence. 
They  are  jealous  of  their  performances,  and  the  fuc- 
cefs  they  may  have  in  fpeaking,  which  gives  them  a 
pain  till  it  is  over;  and  this  puts  them  into  a  hurry  of 
mind,  which  incapacitates  them  from  governing,  their 
voice,  and  keeping  it  under  that  due  regulation  which 
perhaps  they  propofed  to  themfelves  before  they  began 
to  fpeak. 

And  as  a  precipitant  and  hafty  pronunciation  is  cul- 
pable, fo  Iikewife  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  huh  to 
fpeak  too  (low.  This  feems  to  argue  a  h.?avinefs  in 
the  fpeaker.  And  as  he  appears  cool  himfelf,  he  can 
never  expect  to  warm  his  hearers,  and  exci'^e  their  af- 
fections. When  not  only  every  word,  but  every  fyl- 
labie  is  drawn  out  to  too  great  a  length,  the  ideas  do 
not  come  faft  enou^jh  to  keep  up  the  attention  with  mt 
much  unealiiief-.  Now,  to  avoid  either  of  the  two  ex- 
tremes lalt  mentioned,  the  voice  ought  to  be  fedate  and 
di!tia(ft.  And  in  order  to  render  it  diitinift,  it  is  ne- 
cefTary,  nor  only  that  each  word  and  fy liable  fliould 
have  its  '}n\\  and  full  found,  both  as  to  time  and  accent, 
but  like  wife  that  every  fentence,  and  part  of  a  fen- 
tence, ihdu'd  be  feparated  by  its  proper  paufe. 

This.i^  more  eafy  to  he  done  in  reading,  from  the 
affiance  of  the  points;  but  it  is  no  lefsto  beatteni^d 
to  in  fptaking,  if  we  would  pronounce  in  a  diltindt 
and  graceful  manner.  For  every  one  ihould  fpeak  in 
the  fame  manner  as  he  ought  to  read,  if  he  could  ar- 
rive at  that  exactnefs.  Now  the  common  rule  given 
in  paufing  is,  that  we  flop  our  voice  at  a  comma  till  we  ^ 


1 8  THE  COLUMBIAN  OR  ATOR. 

can  tell  one,  at  a  femicolon  two,  at  a  colon  three,  and 
at  a  full  period  four.  And  as  thefe  points  are  either 
accommodated  to  the  feveral  parts  of  the  fame  fenrt^nre, 
as  the  firfb  three;  or  different  fenrences,  as  the  iaftj 
this  occniions  the  different  length  of  the  paiife,  by 
which  either  the  dependence  of  what  precede^,  upon 
that  which  follows,  or  its  diftin^lion  from  it  is  repre- 
fented. 

It  is  not  in  our  power  to  give  ourfelves  what  qual- 
ities of  the  voice  we  pleafe;  but  only  to  make  the 
bell:  ufe  we  can  of  what  nature  has  beflowed  upon  us. 
However,  feveral  defeats  of  the  voice  are  capable  of 
being  helped  by  care  and  proper  means;  as,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  befl:  voice  may  be  greatly  hurt  by  ill 
management  and  indifcretion.  Temperance  is  a  great 
prefervative  of  the  voice,  and  all  excefs  is  highly  pre- 
judicial to  it.  Fhe  voice  muff  neceffarily  fuffer,  if  the 
organs  of  fpeech  have  not  their  proper  tone.  A  flrong 
voice  is  very  ferviceable  to  an  orator,  becaufe,  if  he 
want  fome  other  advantages,  he  is,  howeves,  capable  to 
make  himfelf  heard.  And  if  at  any  time  he  is  forced 
to  flrain  it,  he  is  in  lefs  danger  of  its  failing  him  be- 
fore he  has  finifhed  his  difcourfe. 

But  he,  who  has  a  weak  voice,  fhould  be  very  care- 
ful not  to  ftrain  it,  efpecialiy  at  firff.  He  ought  to  be- 
gin flow,  and  rife  gradually  to  fuch  a  pitch  as  the  key 
of  his  voice  will  well  carry  him,  without  being  oblig- 
ed to  fink  again  afterwards.  Frequent  infledtions  of* 
the  voice  will  likewife  be  fome  affilitance  to  him.  But 
efpecialiy  he  fhould  take  care  to  fpeak  deliberately 
and  eafe  his  voice,  by  allowing  due  time  for  refpira- 
tion  at  all  the  proper  paufes.  It  is  an  extreme  much 
lefs  inconvenient  for  fuch  a  perfon  rather  to  fpeak  too 
flovv,  than  too  faih  But  this  defect  of  a  weak  voice  is 
fometimes  capable  of  being  helped  by  the  ufe  of  proper 
methods;  as  is  evident  from  the  inliance  of  Demof^ 
thenes,  before  mentioned. 

S'»me  pcrfjns,  rither  from  want  of  due  care  in  their 
tducation  at  firlt,  or  from  inadvertency  and  negligence 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  19 

afterwards,  run  into  a  very  irri:gnlar  and  confnfed  man- 
ner of  expre fling  their  words ^  either  by  mifplacing  the 
accf^nt,  conf  )nnding  th<i  found  of  the  letters,  or  hiid- 
dli'ig  the  fylidhles  one  upon  another  fo  as  to  render 
what  they  fay  often  unintelligible.  Indeed,  fometimes 
thi'^  arifes  from  a  natural  defeat,  as  in  the  cafe  of  De- 
mofihenes  •,  who  found  a  method  to  re<5lify  that,  as 
well  as  the  weaknefs  of  his  voice.  But  in  faults  of 
thi<  kind,  which  proceed  from  habit,  doribtlefs  the  mod 
likely  way  to  mend  them  is  to  fpcak  deliberately. 


OF  GESTURE. 

BY  this  is  meant,  a  fuitabie  conformity  of  the  mo- 
tions of  the  countenance,  and  feveral  parts  of  the  body 
in  fpeaking,  to  the  fubjedt-matter  of  the  difcourfe.  It 
is  not  agreed  among  the  learned,  whether  voice  or  gef- 
ture  has  the  greater  influence  upon  us.  But  as  the 
latter  affects  us  by  the  eye  as  the  former  does  by  the 
ear,  gefture  in  the  nature  of  it  feems  to  have  this  advan- 
tage, that  it  conveys  the  impreflion  more  fpeedily  to 
the  mind;  for  the  fight  is  the  quickell:  of  all  our  fenfes. 
Nor  is  its  influence  lefs  upon  our  paflivins  ;  nay,  in 
fome  inl>ances,  it  appears  to  a6l  more  powerfully.  A 
cart  of  the  eye  will  exprefs  delire  in  as  moving  a  man- 
ner as  the  fofteft  language ;  and  a  different  motion  of 
it,  refentment. 

To  wring  the  hands,  tear  the  hair,  or  flrike  the 
breaft,  are  all  flrong  indications  of  forrow.  And  he, 
who  claps  his  hand  to  his  fword,  throws  us  into  a 
greater  panic  than  one  who  only  threatens  to  kill  us. 
N'»r  is  it  in  fome  refpec^s  lefs  various  and  extenlive 
language.  Cicero  tells  us,  he  often  diverted  himfelf 
by  trying  this  with  Rofcius  the  comedian  ;  who  could 
exprefs  a  fentence  as  many  ways  by  his  geftures,  as  he 
hiir.f 'If  could  by  words.  And  foi.»e  dramas,  called  pan- 
tomimes; have  been  earned  on  wholly  by  mutes,  who 


20  THE  COLUMBT  AN  OR  ATOR. 

have  performed  every  parr  by  geftures  only,  without 
words,  in  a  way  very  inttlligibie. 

Bat  'vlth  rf  {peel  to  oratory,  gefture  may  very  prop- 
erly be  called  the  fecond  part  of  proniinciati(  n  ;  In 
which,  as  the  voice  (liould  be  fuited  to  the  inipreffions 
it  receives  from  the  mind,  fo  the  feveral  motions  of  the 
body  ought  to  be  accommodated  to  the  various  tones 
and  infif^t^fcions  of  the  voice.  When  the  voice  Is  even 
and  moderate,  little  gellure  Is  required;  and  nothing 
is  more  lumatural  than  violent  motion,  in  difcourfiDg 
upon  ordinary  and  familiar  fijbjc61:s.  The  morions  of 
the  body  Ihould  rife  thereftire  in  proportion  to  the  ve- 
hemence and  energy  of  the  exprefli  n,  as  the  natural 
and  genuine  tfFe(Sl  of  it. 

But  as  geftiire  is  very  different  and  various  as  to  the 
manner  of  it,  which  depends  upon  the  decent  condu<5l 
of  feveral  parts  of  the  body,  it  will  not  be  aipIA  to  con- 
fider  more  particularly  the  proper  management  of  each 
of  thofe  parts.  Now  all  gefture  is  either  natural,  or 
from  Imitation.  By  natural  gellure,  we  mean  fuch  ac- 
tions and  motions  of  the  body,  as  naturally  accompany 
our  words,  as  thefe  do  the  imprcffions  of  our  mind. 
And  thefe  either  rerpe(51:  the  whole  body,  orfome  par- 
ticular part  of  It. 

The  fpeaker  ihould  not  long  continue  ftanding  In 
the  fame  pofirion,  like  a  ilatue,  but  be  cimll^antly  chang- 
ing, though  the  m-otion  be  very  moderate.  There 
ought  to  be  no  appearance  of  iHffnefs,  but  a  certain 
cale  and  pllablenefs,  naturally  fuiting  itlelf  to  cvrry 
CXT'r.^fli on;  by  which  nieans,  when  a  greater  degree 
of  motion  is  neceffary,  it  will  appear  lefs  fudden  and 
ve]*ement:  for  as  the  raifing,  finking,  and  varIo\i^  in- 
fli  '.'f'ons  of  the  voice  mufV  be  gradual,  lo  llkewif  ^  ihould 
the  motions  of  the  body.  It  iy  only  on  fome  parvicu- 
lar  occafions  that  a  haity  vehemence  and  im}»eruofity 
is  proper  in  either  czit. 

As  to  the  feveral  parts  of  thebody,theheadIsthe  inoft 
COf  hderable  Vo  lift  it  up  too  hioh  has  the  air  -f  /irro- 
gance  and  pride  j  to  Aretch  it  out  too  far,  or  throw  i^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  as 

back,  looks  clownirti  and  unmannerly;  to  hang  it  down- 
wards on  the  breati,  fhows  an  unmanly  baihfulnef^  and 
want  of  fpirit:  and  to  fuffer  it  to  lean  on  either  iTioul- 
der,  argues  both  ilorh  and  indolence.  Wherefore,  in 
calm  and  fedate  difcourfe,  it  ought  to  keep  its  natural 
ftate,  an  upright  poRure.  However,  it  fhould  not  be 
long  without  morion,  nor  yet  always  moving  ;  but 
gently  turn  fometimes  on  one  fide,  and  fometimes  on 
the  other,  as  occafion  requires,  that  the  voice  may  be 
heard  by  all  who  are  prefent ;  and  then  return  again 
to  its  nat'iral  pofition.  It  Ihould  always  accompany 
the  other  acflions  of  the  body,  and  turn  on  the  fame 
fide  with  them;  except  when  averfion  to  any  thing  is 
cxprefied;  which  is  done  by  ftretching  out  the  right 
hand,  and  turning  the  head  to  the  left. 

But  it  is  the  countenance,  that  chitflyreprefents  both 
the  paflions  and  difpofitions  of  the  niind.  By  this  we 
cxprefs  love,  hatred,  joy,  forrow,  modtfiy,  and  confi- 
dence :  by  this  we  fupplicate,  threaten,  foothe,  invite, 
forbid,  confent,  or  refufe;  and  all  this  without  fpeaking. 
Nay,  from  hence  we  form  a  judgment  not  only  of  a  p(  r- 
fon's  prefent  temper,  but  of  his  capacity  and  natu  al 
difpofition.  And  therefore  it  is  common  to  fav,  fii<h 
a  one  has  a  "  promifing  countenance,"  or  that  **  he 
promifes  little  by  his  countenance."  It  is  true,  this  is 
no  certain  rule  of  judging;  nor  is  it  in  the  power  of 
any  one  to  alter  the  natural  make  of  his  countenani  e. 

But  the  feveral  parts  of  the  face  bear  their  part,  and 
contribute  to  the  proper  and  decent  motion  of  the 
whole.  In  a  calm  and  fedate  difcourfe,  all  the  features 
retain  their  natural  fiate  and  fituation.  In  forrow, 
the  forehead  and  eyebrows  lour,  and  the  cheeks  hang 
down.  But  in  expr<-flions  of  joy  and  cheerfuhieis, 
the  forehead  and  eyebrows  are  expanded,  the  checks 
contraifled,  and  the  corners  of  the  mouth  drawn  up- 
wards. Anger  and  refentment  contradl  the  forehead, 
draw  the  brows  together,  and  thrult  rut  the  lips.  An.d 
terror  elevates  both  the  brows  and  forehead.     As  thefq 


22  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

are  the  natural  figns  of  fuch  paifions,  the  orator  fliould 
endeavor  to  conform  to  them. 

But  as  the  eyes  are  mon  a<n:ive  and  {ignificant,it  is  the 
advice  of  Cicero  that  the  greateft  care  Ihould  be  taken 
in  their  management.  And  he  gives  this  reafon  for  it. 
<<  Becaufe  other  parts  of  the  countenance  have  but  few 
motions;  whereas  all  the  paffions  of  the  foul  are  ex- 
prcfTfd  in  the  eyes,  by  fo  many  difierent  acStions;  which 
cannot  pofTibly  be  reprefented  by  any  geiturcs  of  the 
body,  if  the  eyes  are  kept  in  a  /ixcd  poilure."  Com- 
mon experience  does  in  a  g'*eat  meafure  confirm  the 
truth  of  this  obfervation.  We  readily  guefs  at  a  per- 
fon's  intention,  cr  how  he  is  affected  to  us  by  his  eyes. 
And  any  fndden  change  or  emotion  of  the  mind  is  pre- 
fently  followed  by  an  alteration  in  the  look. 

In  f,)eaking,  therefore,  upon  pleai'ant  and  delightful 
fubjcdts,  the  eyes  are  brifk  and  cheerful ;  as,  on  the 
contrary,  they  fink  and  are  lanquid  in  delivering  any 
thing  melancholy  and  forrowful.  This  is  fo  agreeable 
to  nature,  that  bef(»re  a  perfon  fpeaks,  we  are  prepared 
with  the  expectation  of  one  or  the  other  from  his  dif- 
ferent afpe6l.  So  likewife  in  anger,  a  certain  vehe- 
mence and  intenfenefs  appears  in  the  eyes,  which,  for 
want  of  proper  words  to  exprefs  it  by,  we  endeavor  to 
reprefent  by  metaphors  taken  from  fire,the  moft  violent 
and  rapid  element ;  and  fay  in  fuch  cafes,  the  eyes 
fparkle,  burn,  or  are  inflamed.  In  expreflions  of  ha- 
tred or  deteftatiGn,  it  is  natural  to  alter  the  looks  eiiher 
by  turning  the  eyes  afide,  or  downwards. 

Indeed,  the  eyes  are  fometimes  turned  downwards 
upon  other  occafions,  as  to  exprels  modeiiy.  And  if  at 
any  time  a  particular  obje^l  be  addrefTed,  whatever  it 
be,  the  eyes  ihould  be  turned  that  way.  And  there- 
fore Philoftratus  very  defervedly  ridicules  a  certain 
rhetorician,  as  guilty  of  a  folecifm  in  geilurejwho,  upon 
faying,  O  Jupiter  I  turned  his  eyes  downwards  ;  and 
when  he  faid,  O  Earth  !  looked  upward.  A  flaring 
look  has  tlie  appearance  of  giddinefs  and  want  of 
thought ;  and  to  contract  the  eyes  gives  fufpicion  of 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR,  23 

oraft  and  dcfign.  A  fixed  look  may  be  occafioned  from 
intenftnef.  of  thought ;  but  at  the  fame  time  iliows  a 
dilregard  to  the  audience  ;  and  a  too  quick  and  wan- 
dering motion  of  tUe  eyes  denotes  levity  and  wanton- 
nefs.  A  gentle  and  moderate  motion  of  the  eyes  is, 
therefore,  in  common,  moil:  fuitable ;  always  directed 
to  fome  of  the  audience,  and  gradually  turning  frcm 
fide  to  fide  with  an  air  of  refpe«St  and  modefty,  and 
looking  them  decently  in  the  face,  as  in  common  dii^ 
courfe.  Such  a  behaviour  will  of  courfe  draw  an  atten- 
tion. 

As  to  the  other  parts  of  the  body  difiinc^  frcm  the 
hx^ad,  the  fiioulders  ought  not  to  be  elevated  ;  for  this 
is  not  only  in  itfelf  indecent ;  but  it  likewife  contra^S 
the  neck,  and  hinders  the  proper  motion  of  the  head. 
Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  fhould  they  be  drawn  down 
and  deprefied  ;  becaufe  this  occafions  a  fiiflnefs  both 
to  the  neck  and  the  whole  body.  Their  natural  pos- 
ture therefore  is  beft,  as  being  moft  eafy  and  graceful. 
To  ilirug  the  iliouiders  has  an  abj<  (ft  and  fervile  air; 
and  frequently  to  heave  them  upwards  and  downwards 
is  a  very  diiagreeable  fight.  A  continued  UiOtion  of 
the  arms  any  way,  is  by  all  means  to  be  avoided.  Their 
action  ihould  generally  be  very  moderate,  and  follow 
that  of  the  hands  j  unlefs  in  very  pathetic  exprcflions 
where  it  may  be  proper  to  give  them  a  more  lively 
fpring. 

Now,  all  bodily  motion  is  either  upward  or  down- 
ward, to  the  right  or  left,  forward  or  backward,  or 
elfe  circular.  The  hands  are  employed  by  the  orator 
in  all  thefe  except  the  laft.  And  as  they  ought  to  cor- 
refpond  with  our  exprcflions,  fo  they  ought  to  begin 
and  end  with  them.  In  admiration,  and  addr'^flxfs  to 
heaven,  they  rnurt  be  elevated,  but  never  r?ifcd  above 
the  eyes;  and  in  fpeaking  of  things  below  us,  they  arc 
directed  downwards.  Side  motion  fliould  generally 
begin  from  the  left,  and  terminate  gently  on  the  right. 
In  demonflrating,  addrefling,  and  on  feveral  other  oc- 
CAlions,  they  are  moved  forward  5  and  in  threatening^ 


a4  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

fometlmes  thrown  back.  B^.t  when  the  orator  fpeaks 
of  himfelfj  his  right  hand  fliould  be  gently  laid  on  his 
breall:. 

The  left  hand  fhould  feldom  move  alone,  but  ac- 
commodate itfelf  to  the  motions  of  the  right.  In  mo- 
tions to  the  left  fide,  the  right  hand  ihould  not  be  car- 
ried beyond  the  left  fhoulder.  In  promifes,  and  ex- 
preffions  of  compliment,  the  motion  of  the  hands  Ihould 
be  gentle  and  flow;  but  in  exhortations  and  applaufe, 
DK-re  fwift.  The  hands  fliould  generally  be  open;,  but 
in  expreflions  of  compunction  and  anger,  they  may  be 
clofcd.  All  finical  arid  trifling  ac^Hons  of  the  fingers 
ought  to  be  avoided,  nor  iLould  they  be  Wretched  out 
and  expanded  in  a  ftifFand  rigid  poflure,  but  kept  eafy 
and  pliable. 

The  geftures  we  have  hitherto  difcourfed  of,  are 
fuch  as  naturally  accompany  our  exprcffions.  And  we 
believe  tbofe  we  have  mentioned,  if  duly  attended  to, 
will  be  found  fufRcient  to  anfwer  all  the  pu*  p<  frs  of 
our  modern  pronum  iation.  Tlie  other  fort  of  geftures 
above  mentioned  are  iuch  as  arife  from  imit?.tion  ;  as 
where  the  orator  defcribes  fome  action  or  perfonates 
another  fpeaking.  But  here  great  care  is  to  be  taken 
not  to  overaiSt  his  part  by  running  into  any  ludicrous 
or  theatrical  mimicry.  It  is  fiifficient  for  him  to  rep- 
refent  things  of  this  nature,  as  ma^  beft  convey  the 
image  of  them  in  a  lively  manner  to  the  minds  of  the 
hearers ;  without  any  fuch  changes  either  of  his  ac- 
tions or  voice  as  are  not  fuitable  to.his  own  character. 


SOME  PARTICULAR  RULES  FOR  THE 
VOICE  AND  GESTURE. 

WE  flial)  begin  with  the  parts  of  a  difcourfe,  and 
treat  of  then,  in  their  natural  order.  And  here  the 
view  and  defign  of  the  fpcaker  in  each  of  them  will 
etliiy  heip  us  to  iec  the  proper  manner  of  pronuntia- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2^ 

.tjon.  Let  us  fuppofe  then  a  perfon  prefentlng  him- 
felf  before  an  a&mbly,  in  order  to  make  a  difconrfe 
to  them.  It  cannot  be  decent  immediately  to  begin  to 
fpeak  fo  Toon  as  ever  he  makes  his  appearance.  He 
will  firft  fettle  himfelf,  compofe  his  countenance,  and 
take  a  refpe<Stful  view  of  his  audience.  This  prepares 
them  for  lilence  and  attention. 

Perfons  commonly  form  (bme  opinion  of  a  fpeaker 
from  their  firft  view  of  him,  which  prejudices  them 
either  in  his  favor  or  otherwife,  as  to  what  he  fays  af- 
terwards. A  grave  and  fedate  afpe£l  inclines  them  to 
think  him  ferious*,  that  he  bad  confidered  his  fubjc(fl:, 
and  may  have  fomething  to  ofter  worth  their  attention. 
A  haughty  and  forbidding  air  occafions  diftafte,  as  it 
looks  like  difrefpe^L  A  wandering  giddy  countenance 
argues  levity.  A  deje^led  drooping  appearance  is  apt 
to  raife  contempt,  unlefs  where  the  fubje<ft  is  melan- 
choly. And  a  cheerful  afpeift  is  a  proper  prelude  to  a 
pleafant  and  agreeable  argument. 

To  fpeak  low  at  firft  has  the  appearance  of  modefty, 
and  is  beft  for  the  voice  •,  wbich,  by  rifing  gradually, 
will  with  more  eafe  be  carried  to  any  pitch  that  may 
be  afterv/ards  necefi^ary,  without  draining  it.  Howev- 
er, fome  variation  of  the  voice  is  always  proper  to  give 
it  harmony.  Nay,  and  fometimes  it  is  not  improper 
for  an  orator  to  fet  out  with  a  conhderable  degree  of 
warmth.  We  have  fome  few  infiances  of  this  in  Cic- 
ero ;  as  in  his  oration  for  Rofcius  Amerinus,  where 
the  heinoufnefs  of  the  charge  could  not  but  excite  his 
indignation  againft  the  aci.ufers.  And  fo  like  wife  in 
that  againft  Pifo,  and  the  two  firft  againft  Catiline, 
which  begin  in  the  fame  manner,  from  tiie  refentment 
he  had  conceived  againft  their  perfons  and  condudl. 

In  the  narration,  the  voice  ought  to  be  raifed  to  fome- 
what  a  higher  pitch.  Matters  of  fa<ft  fliould  be  related 
in  a  very  plain  and  diftin<Sl  manner,  with  a  proper  ftrefs 
and  emphafis  laid  upon  each  circumftance,  accompani- 
ed with  a  fuitable  addrefs  and  motion  of  the  body  to 
engage  the  attention  of  the  hearers.  For  there  is  a 
C 


x6  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

certain  grace  in  telling  a  ftory,  by  which  thofe  who  Are 
mafters  of  it  ieldom  fail  to  recommend  themfelves  in 
converfiition. 

The  propoHtion,  or  rubje(n:  of  the  difcourfe,  fhould 
be  delivered  with  a  very  clear  and  audible  voice.  For 
if  this  be  not  plainly  heard,  all  that  follows  in  proof 
of  it  cannot  well  be  under ftood.  And  for  the  fame 
reafon,  if  it  be  divided  into  feveral  parts  or  branches, 
they  fhould  each  be  exprelTed  very  deliberately  and 
diftindlly.  But  as  the  defign  here  is  only  information, 
there  can  be  litrle  room  for  gefture. 

The  confirmation  admits  of  great  variety  both  of  the 
Toice  and  gefture.  In  reafoning,  the  voice  is  quick  and 
pungent,  and  fhould  be  enforced  with  fuitable  adlions. 
And  as  defcriptions  likewife  have  often  a  place  here,  in 
painting  out  the  images  of  things,  the  orator  fhould  fo 
endeavour  to  adapt  both  his  voice,  and  the  motions  of 
his  body,  particularly  the  turn  of  his  eyes,  and  action 
of  his  hands,  as  may  beft  help  the  imagination  of  his 
hearers.  Where  he  introduces  another  perfon  fpeak- 
ing,  or  addrefTes  an  abfent  perfon,  it  fliould  be  with 
fome  degree  of  imitation.  And  in  dialogue,  the  voice 
fliould  alter  with  the  parts.  When  he  diverts  from  his 
fubjecl  by  any  digrefHon,  his  voice  fhould  be  lively  and 
cheerful ;  fince  that  is  rather  deligned  for  entertain- 
ment than  infiru^tion. 

In  confutation,  the  argum.ents  of  the  adverfe  party 
ought  fiift  to  be  repeated  in  a  plain  and  diftindt  man- 
ner, that  the  fpeaker  may  not  feem  to  conceal  or  avoid 
the  force  of  them.  Uniefs  they  appear  trifling  and  un- 
worthy of  a  ferious  anfwer;  and  then  a  facetious  man- 
ner, both  of  expreflion  and  gefture,  may  be  the  moft 
proper  way  to  confute  them.  For,  to  attempt  to  an- 
swer, in  a  grave  and  ferious  manner,  what  is  irT  itfelf 
empty  and  ludicrous,  is  apt  to  create  a  fufpicion  of  its 
having  more  in  it  than  it  really  has. 

But  caution  fhould  be  ufed  not  to  reprefent  any  ar- 
gument of  weight  in  a  ludicrous  way,  lefl  by  fo  doJng 
Che-.ibeaker  lliould  mora  expofe  feimfeif  than  his  adver- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  27 

^ry.  In  the  conclufion,  both  the  voice  and  geiiure 
fhould  be  bri£k  and  fprightly  ;  which  may  feem  to  arife 
from  a  fenfe  of  the  fpeaker's  opinion  of  the  goodnefs 
of  his  caufe,  and  that  he  has  offered  nothing  but  what 
is  agreeable  to  reafon  and  truth ;  as  likewile  from  hrs 
afTurance  that  the  audience  agree  with  him  in  the  fame 
fentknent.  If  an  enumeration  of  the  principal  argu- 
ments of  the  difcourfe  be  convenient,  as  it  iometimes 
is,  where  they  are  pretty  numerous,  or  the  difcourfe  is 
long,  they  ought  to  be  exprefTed  in  the  moft  clear  and 
forcible  mann'^r.  And  if  there  be  an  addrefs  to  the 
paffions,  both  the  voice  and  gcfture  muft  be  fuited  to 
the  nature  of  them. 

We  proceed  now  to  the  conflderation  of  particular 
expreflions.  And  what  we  (hall  offer  here,  will  be  in 
relation  10  iingle  words,  fentences>  and  the  pafiions* 
Even  in  thofe  fentences  which  are  expreffed  in  the 
moft  even  and  fedate  manner,  there  is  often  one  or 
more  words  which  require  an  emphafis  and  diftint^ion 
of  the  voice.  Pronouns  are  often  of  this  kind;  as,  this 
is  the  man.  And  fuch  are  many  words  that  denote 
the  circumftances  and  qualities  of  things.  Such  as 
heighten  or  magnify  the  idea  of  the  thing  to  which 
they  are  joined,  elevate  the  voice  ;  as  noblej  admira- 
ble, majejlic^  greatly,  and  the  like.  On  the  contrary, 
thofe  which  leffen  the  idea,  or  debafe  it,  deprefs  the 
Toice,  or  at  leaft  protradl  the  tone  :  of  which  fort  are 
the  words  little,  mean,  poorly,  contemptible,  with  many 
Others. 

Some  tropes,  likewife,  as  metaphors  and  verbal  fig- 
ures, which  coniift  in  the  repetition  of  a  fingle  word, 
fliould  have  a  particular  emphafis.  As  when  Virgil 
fays  of  the  river  Araxes,  "  It  difdainedTi  bridge."  And 
Nifus  of  himfelf  in  the  fame  poet,  I,  /  am  the  man  ;'* 
where  the  repeated  word  is  loudeft.  This  diil:in<Slion 
of  words,  and  giving  them  their  proper  emphalis,  docs 
not  only  render  the  exprellion  more  clear  and  inteUi- 
gible,  but  very  much  contributes  to  the  variation  of 
the  voice  and  the  preventing  of  a  monotony. 


28  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

In  fentences,  regard  fhould  be  had  to  their  lengtB, 
and  the  number  of  their  parts,  in  order  to  diftinguifh 
ihem  by  proper  paufes.  The  frame  and  ftrufture  of 
the  period  ought  likewife  to  be  confidered,  that  the 
Toice  may  be  fo  managed  as  to  give  it  the  moft  mulical 
accent.  Unlefs  there  be  fome  fpecial  reafon  for  the 
«ontrary,  it  fhould  end  louder  than  it  begins.  And 
this  difference  of  tone  between  the  end  of  the  former 
fentence  and  the  beginning  of  the  next,  not  only  helps 
to  diftinguilli  the  fcnfcy  but  adds  to  the  harmony  of 
the  voice. 

In  an  antithefis,  or  a  fentence  confifting  of  oppofite 
parts,  one  contrary  muft  be  louder  than  the  other» 
A3,  "  He  is  gone,  but  by  a  gai /iful  rcmoTC,  horn  pal ?i^ 
ful  labor  to  quiet  re/?;  hom.  unquiet  defire  to  happy  coH" 
tentmetit;  from  forro^io  to  joyi  and  from  tranfttory  time 
to  immortality^^  In  a  climax  or  gradation,  the  voice 
fhould  generally  rife  with  it.  Thus,  "  There  is  no  en- 
joyment of  property  without  government;  no  govern- 
ment without  a  magiftrate;  no  magiftrate  without  obe- 
dience; no  obedience  where  every  one  afts  as  he  plea- 
fes."  And  fo  in  other  gradations  of  a  different  form; 
as,  "  Since  concord  was  loft,  friendlhip  was  loft,  fidel- 
ity was  loft,  liberty  was  loft,  all  was  loft." 

rhat  the  paflions  have  each  of  them  both  a  diff^er- 
ent  voice  and  action,  is  evident  from  hence,  that  wc 
know  in  what  manner  a  perfon  is  affe(Sl:ed,  by  the  tone 
of  his  voice,  though  we  do  not  underftand  the  fenfe  of 
what  he  fays,  or  many  times  fo  much  as  fee  him  ;  and 
we  can  often  make  the  fame  judgment  from  his  coun- 
tenance and  geftures.  Love  and  efteem  are  exprefted 
in  a  fmooth  and  cheerful  tone;  but  anger  and  refent- 
ment,  v/ith  a  rough,  harfli,  and  interrupted  voice  ; 
for  vv'hen  the  fpirits  are  ruffled,  the  organs  are  moved 
unequally.  Joy  raifes  and  dilates  the  voice,  as  for- 
row  links  and  contrails  it.  Cicero  takes  notice  of  a 
paff^ige  in  an  oration  of  Gracchus,  wherein  he  bewails 
the  dcnth  of  his  brother,  who  was  killed  by  Scipio, 
Vvhich  in  his  time  was  thought  very  moving:  "  Unhap*- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  a^; 

py  man  (fays  he,)  whither  fliall  I  betake  myielf?  Where 
fhall  I  go?  Into  the  capitol?  that  flows  with  my  broth- 
er's blood.  Shall  I  go  home,  and  behold  my  unhappy 
mother  all  rn  tears  and  defpair?'* 

Though  Gracchus  had  a  very  ill  defign  in  that  fpcech, 
and  his  view  was  to  excite  the  populace  againft  their 
governors,  yet  (as  Cicero  tells  us)  when  he  came  to  this 
paffige,  he  exprefTed  himielf  in  fuch  moving  accents 
and  geftures,  that  he  extorted  tears  even  from  his  ene- 
mies. Fear  occalions  a  tremor  and  hefltation  of  the 
voice,  and  afTurance  gives  it  ll:rength  and  firm! .efs. 
Admiration  elevates  the  voice,  and  fliould  be  exprc fled 
with  pomp  and  m;ignificeni;e.  "Ofurprifing  clemency, 
worthy  of  the  highefl  praife  and  grcatelt  encomiums, 
and  fit  to  be  perpetuated  in  lafling  monuments!"  Lhis 
is  Cicero's  compliment  to  Cefar,  when  he  thought  it  for 
his  purpofe.  And  oftentimes  this  paflujn  is  accompanied 
with  an  elevation  both  of  the  eyes  and  hands.  On  the 
contrary,  contempt  finks  and  protra<^h  the  voice. 

All  exclamations  fliould  be  violent.  When  we  ad- 
drefs  inanimate  things,  the  voice  fliouid  be  higher  than 
when  animated  beings;  and  appeals  to  heaven  mull  be 
made  in  a  loftier  tone  than  thofe  to  men.  Thefc  few 
hints  for  exprefling  the  principal  pafllons  may,  if  du- 
ly attended  to,  fuffice  to  chre(Si:  our  practice»in  others. 
Though,  after  all,  it  is  impoflible  to  gain  a  juft  ai]d 
decent  pronunciation  of  voice  and  geiture  merely  from 
rules,  without  practice  and  ^an  imitation  of  the  befl: 
examples  :  which  fliows  the  wifdom  of  the  ancients, 
in  training  up  their  youth  to  it,  by  the  afllltanc^^  of 
maflers,  to  form  both  their  fpeech  and  anions.  But 
here,  as  has  been  before  obferved,  great  caution  fli<  uid 
be  ufed  in  directing  our  choice  of  an  example.  An 
afi^e<n:ed  imitation  of  others,  in  pnmunciation  or  geflure, 
efpecially  of  flage-players,  whofe  pretenfi.-ns  to  litera- 
ture are  feldom  confiderable,  and  who  are  generally 
too  fond  oi  fnigularityy  ought  to  be  carefully  avoided. 
For  nothing  can  appear  more  dil^uilmg  to  perfons  of 
djfcernment  than  affectation. 
c  % 


30  THE  COLUPylBIAN  ORATOR. 

PRACTICAL  PIECES  FOR  SPEAKING; 

CONSISTING  OF 

ORATIONS,  ADDRESSES,  EXHORTATIONS 
FROM  THE  PULPIT,  PLEADINGS  at  the 
BAR,  SUBLIME  DESCRIPTIONS,  DEBATIvS, 
DECLAMATIONS,  GRAVE  and  HUMcn^- 
OUS  DIALOGUES,  POETRY,  &c.  variouslt 
interspersei>. 


Extract    from    an    Oratiok    on    Elo- 

QllENCE,    PRONOUNCED  AT  HARVARD    UNIVERSITY, 

ON  Commencement  Day,  i  794. 

THE  excellence,  utility  and  importance  of  Elo- 
quence 3  its  origin,  progrefs,  and  prefent  ftate ; 
and  its  iiiperior  claim  to  the  particular  attention  of 
Columbia's  free-born  fons,  will  exercife  for  a  few  mo- 
ments the  patience  of  this  learned,  polite,  and  refpe(n:ed 
alTembly. 

Speech  and  reafon  are  the  characleriftics,  the  glory^ 
and  the  happinefs  of  man.  Thefe  are  the  pillars  which 
fupport  the  fair  fabric  of  eloquence ;  the  foundation, 
upon  which  is  erected  the  moft  magnificent  edifice,  that 
genius  could  defign,  or  art  conftruct.  To  cultivate  elo- 
quence, then,  is  to  improve  the  nobleft  faculties  of  our 
nature,  the  richeft  talents  with  which  we  are  intrufted. 
A  more  convincing  proof  of  the  dignity  and  importance 
of  our  fubjecft  need  not,  cannot  be  advanced. 

The  benevolent  defign  and  the  beneficial  effects  of 
eloquence,  evince  its  great  fuperiority  over  every  other 
art,  which  ever  exercifed  the  ingenuity  of  man.  Vo 
kiftruct,  to  perfuade,  to  pleafe  j  thefe  are  its  objeds; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  51 

To  fcatter  the  clouds  of  ignorance  and  error  from  the 
at'nofphere  of  reafon;  to  remove  the  fihii  of  prejudice 
fr  vn  the  mental  eye;  and  thus  to  irradiate  the  benight- 
ecl  mind  with  the  cheering  beam=;  of  truth,  is  at  once 
the  bufinefs  and  the  glory  of  eloquence. 

To  promote  the  innocent  and  refined  pleafures  of  the 
fancy  and  intel]e<5t;  to  ftrip  the  monfter  vice  of  all  his 
borrowed  charms,  and  expofe  to  view  his  native  defor- 
mity; to  difplay  the  refiftlefs  attra(5lions  of  virtue;  and, 
in  me  word,  to  roufeto  action  all  the  latent  energies  of 
mim,  in  the  proper  and  ardent  purfuit  of  the  great  end 
of  his  exigence,  is  the  orator's  pleafing,  benevolent, 
fublime  employment. 

Nor  let  it  be  objedled,  that  eloquence  fometlmes  im- 
pedes the  courfe  of  juftice,  and  fcreens  the  guilty  from 
the  puniihinent  due  to  their  crimes.  Is  there  any- 
thing which  is  not  obnoxious  to  abufe?  Even  the 
benign  religion  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  has  been  made 
the  unwilling  inflrument  of  the  greateft  calamities  ever 
experienced  by  man.  The  greater  the  benefits  which 
naturally  refult  from  any  thing,  the  more  pernicious  are 
its  cfi:e<Sts,  when  diverted  from  its  proper  courfe.  This 
objection  to  eloquence  is  therefore  its  higheft  eulogiura. 

The  orator  does  not  fucceed,  as  fome  would  infin- 
uate,  by  dazzling  the  eye  of  reafon  with  the  iliufive 
glare  of  his  rhetorical  art,  nor,  by  fiiencing  her  llill 
fmall  voice  in  the  thunder  of  his  declamation;  for  to 
her  impartial  tribunal  he  refers  the  truth  and  propriety 
of  whatever  he  afl^rts  or  propofes.  After  fairly  C(m- 
\incing  the  underfianding,  he  may,  without  the  impu- 
tation of  difingenuoufnels,  proceed  to  addrefs  the  fancy 
and  the  pafiions.  In  this  way  he  will  more  efl^j(Stually 
transfufe  into  his  hearers  his  own  fentiments,  and  make 
every  fpring  in  the  human  machine  co-operate  in  the 
production  of  the  defired  efFedl. 

The  aftoni{hing  powers  of  eloquence  are  well  known, 
at  leaO  to  thofe  who  are  converlant  in  ancient  hiftory. 
Like  a  refiftlefs  torrent,  ir  bears  down  every  nbfiacle, 
and  turns  even  the  current  of  oppoling  ignorance  and 


3 2  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

prejudice  into  the  defired  channel  of  a£tive  and  zealous 
compliance.  It  is  indlfputably  the  moft  potent  art  with- 
in the  compafs  of  human  acquirement.  An  Alexander 
and  a  Cefar  could  conquer  a  world;  but  to  overcome 
the  pallions,  to  fujjdue  the  wills,  and  to  command  at 
pleafure  the  inclinations  of  men,  can  be  efFe(^\ed  only 
by  the  all-powerful  charm  of  enrapturing  eloquence. 

Though  it  be  more  than  probable,  that  oratory  was 
known  and  cultivated  in  fome  degree  in  thofe  eaftern 
nations,  where  fcience  flrft  began  to  dawn  upon  the 
world;  yet  it  was  not  till  Greece  became  civilized  and 
formed  into  diilindl:  governments,  that  it  madeits  appear- 
ance in  its  native,  peerlefs  majefty.  Here  we  may  fix  the 
era  of  eloquence;  here  was  its  morn;  here  its  meridian 
too;  for  here  it  Ihone  withfplendor  never  fincefurpafled. 

It  is  a  common  and  a  juft  remark,  that  eloquence 
can  flourifh  only  in  the  foil  of  liberty.  Athens  was  a 
republic,  where  the  affairs  of  ftate  were  tranfadled  in 
the  affembly  of  the  whole  people.  This  afforded  to 
eloquence  a  field  too  fertile  to  remain  long  uncultiva- 
ted by  the  ingenious  Athenians.  Orators  foon  made 
their  appearance,  who  did  honor  to  language,  to  Greece, 
to  humanity. 

But  though  the  names  of  many  have  been  tranf^ 
mitted  to  us,  whofe  genius  and  eloquence  demand  our 
veneration  and  applaufe;  yet,  like  ftars  when  the  fun 
appears,  they  are  loft  in  the  fuperior  blaze  of  the  in- 
comparable Demofthenes.  His  ftory  is  well  known; 
and  his  example  affords  the  greateft  encouragement  to 
ftudents  in  eloquence;  as  it  proves,  that  by  art,  almofb 
in  defiance  of  nature,  a  man  may  attain  fuch  excellence 
in  oratory,  as  fliall  ftamp  his  name  with  the  feal  of  im- 
mortality. Demofthenes  and  the  liberty  of  Greece  to- 
gether expired;  and  from  this  period  we  hear  very 
little  more  of  Grecian  eloquence. 

Let  us  now  direct  our  attention  to  that  other  gar- 
den of  eloquence,  the  Roman  commonwealth.  Here, 
as  in  Greece,  a  free  government  oj^ened  the  lift  to  fuch 
as  wilhed  to  difpute  the  palm  in  oratory.    Numbers 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  33 

advance,  and  contend  manfully  for  the  prize.  Buf 
their  glory  is  foon  to  fade;  for  Cicero  appears;  Cicero, 
another  name  for  eloquence  itfelf.  It  is  needlefs  to 
enlarge  on  his  chara<^ter  as  an  orator.  Suffice  it  to  fay, 
that  if  we  ranfack  the  hiflories  of  the  world  to  find  a 
rival  for  Demofthenes,  Ci<:ero  alone  can  be  fdund 
capable  of  fupporting  a  claim  to  that  diftinguifhed 
honor. 

And  when  did  Greece  or  Rome  prefent  a  fairer 
field  for  eloquence,  than  that  which  now  invites  the 
culture  of  the  enlightened  citizens  of  Columbia.?  We 
live  in  a  republic,  the  orator's  natal  foil;  we  enjoy  as 
much  liberty,  as  is  confident  with  the  nature  of  manj 
we  poflc'fs  as  a  nation  all  the  advantages  which  climate, 
foil,  and  lituation  can  beftow;  and  nothing  but  real 
merit  is  here  required  as  a  qualification  for  the  mod: 
dignified  offices  of  ftate.  Never  had  eloquence  more 
ample  fcope. 

And  fhall  we  reft  fatisfied  with  only  admiring,  op 
at  moit  with  following  at  an  awful  diliance  the  moft 
illuftrious  orators  of  Greece  and  Rome?  Shall  every 
other  ufeful  and  ornamental  art  fpeed  fwiftly  towards 
perfection,  while  oratory,  that'  moit  fublime  of  all  arrs; 
that  art,  which  could  render  one  man  more  dre  idful 
to  a  tyrant,  than  hoftile  fleets  and  armies,  i*  almoft 
forgotten?  It  mufl  not,  cannot  be.  That  refinement 
of  tafi^e,  that  laudable  ambition  to  excel  in  every  tiling 
which  does  honor  to  humanity,  which  diffinguiihes 
the  Americans,  and  their  free  and  popular  government, 
are  fo  many  fprings,  which  though  not  inftantane- 
ous  in  their  operation,  cannot  fail  in  time  to  raifc 
Columbian  eloquence  "above  all  Greek,  above  all 
Roman  fame." 

With  pleafure  we  defcry  the  dawning  of  that 
bright  day  of  eloquence,  which  we  have  anticipated. 
The  grand  council  of  our  nation  has  already  evinced, 
that  in  this  refpeCl,  as  in  all  others,  our  republic  ac- 
knowledges no  txirting  fuperior.  And  we  trult,  that, 
as  our  facred  teachers  make  it  their  conHant  endeaypi'- 


34  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

to  Imitate  the  great  learning,  the  exemplary  vlrtue^^ 
the  exalted  piety,  and  the  extenfive  ufefulnefs  of  the 
great  apollle  of  the  Gentiles,  they  will  not  fail  to  re- 
femble  him  in  that  qommanding,  that  heavenly  elo- 
quence, which  made  an  avaricious,  an  unbelieving  Fe- 
lix tremble. 

May  Columbia  always  afford  more  than  one  Dc- 
mofthenes,  to  fupport  the  facred  caufc  of  freedom,  and 
to  thunder  terror  in  the  ears  of  every  tranfatlantic 
Philip.  May  more  than  Ciccronean  eloquence  be  ever 
ready  to  plead  for  injured  innocence,  and  fuffering  vir- 
tue. Warned  by  the  fate  of  her  predecefr)rs,  may  fhe 
efcape  thcfe  quick fands  of  vice,  which  have  ever  prov- 
ed the  bane  of  empire.  May  her  glory  and  her  fe- 
licity increafe  with  each  revolving  year,  till  the  laft 
trump  fhall  announce  the  cataftrophe  of  nature,  and 
time  Ihall  immerge  in  the  ocean  of  eternity. 


Extract  from  President  Washington's 
FIRST  Speech  in  Congress,  1789. 

Fellow-Citizens  of  the  Senate, 

AND  OF  the  House  of  Representatives, 

AMONG  the  viciffitudes  incident  to  life,  no  event 
could  have  filled  me  with  greater  anxieties  than 
that  of  which  the  notification  was  tranfmitted  by  youir 
order,  and  received  on  the  14th  day  of  the  prefent 
month.  On  the  one  hand,  I  was  fummoned  by  my 
country,  whofe  voice  I  can  never  hear  but  with  vene- 
ration and  love,  from  a  retreat  which  I  had  chofen 
with  the  fondeft  predilection,  and,  in  my  flattering 
hopes,  with  an  immutable  decifion,  as  the  afylum  of 
my  declining  years.  A  retreat  which  was  rendered 
every  day  more  neceflary  as  well  as  more  dear  to  me, 
by  the  addition  of  habit  to  inclination,  and  of  frequent 
interruptions  in  my  health  to  the  gradual  wail:e  cofl^^ 
mitted  on  it  by  time. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR,.  35 

-On  the  other  hand,  the  magnitude  and  difficulty  of 
thetruft,  to  which  the  voice  of  my  country  called  me, 
being  fiifficient  to  awaken  in  the  wifeft  and  moft  expe- 
rienced of  her  citizens,  a  diftruAful  fcrutiny  into  his 
qu;?liiications,  could  not  but  overwhelm  with  defpon- 
dence  one,  who,  inheriting  inferior  endowmep.ts  from 
nature,  and  unpraiStifed  in  the  duties  of  civil  adminif- 
tration,  ought  to  be  peculiarly  confcious  of  his  own 
deficiencies. 

In  this  confli<51:  of  emotions,  all  I  dare  aver  is,  that  it 
has  been  my  faithful  rtudy  to  colle<n:  my  duty  from  a 
juft  appreciation  of  every  circumftance  bywhich  it  might 
be  affected.  All  I  dare  hope  is,  that  if,  in  executing 
this  tafk,  I  have  been  too  much  fwayed  by  a  grateful 
remembrance  of  farmer  inOances,  or  by  an  afFe<Stionatc 
fenfibility  to  this  tranfcendent  proof  of  the  confidence 
of  my  fellow-citizens,  and  have  thence  too  little  con- 
fulted  my  incapacity  as  well  as  difinclination  for  the 
weighty  and  untried  cares  before  me,  my  error  will  be 
palliated  by  the  motives  which  mifled  me;  and  its  con- 
fecf  lences  be  judged  by  my  country,  with  fome  (hare 
of  the  partiality  in  which  they  originated. 

Such  being  the  impreflions  under  which  I  have,  in 
obedience  to  the  public  fummons,  repaired  to  the  pres- 
ent Nation,  it  would  be  peculiarly  improper  to  omit  in 
this  firfi:  official  a(5t,  my  fervent  fupplications  to  that 
Almighty  Being,  who  rules  over  the  univerfe,  who 
prefides  in  the  councils  of  nations,  and  whofe  provi- 
dential aids  can  fupply  every  human  defeat,  that  hie 
benediction  may  confecrate  to  the  liberties  and  happi- 
nefs  of  the  people  of  the  United  States,  a  government 
infbituted  by  thenifelves  for  thefe  efTential  purpofes; 
and  may  enable  every  infirument  employed  in  its  ad- 
miniftration,  to  execute  with  fuccefs,  the  functions  al- 
lotted to  his  charge.  In  tendering  this  homage  to  the 
great  Author  of  ev<sry  public  and  private  good,  I  a{^ 
fure  myfelf  that  it  expreffi^s  your  fentiments  not  left 
tJian  my  own;  nor  thofe  of  my  fellow-citizens  at  large, 
lefs  thau  either. 


3(5  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

No  people  can  be  bound  to  acknowledge  and  adore 
tlie  invilible  hand,  which  condu^ls  the  affairs  of  men, 
more  than  the  people  of  the  United  States.  Every  ftep, 
by  which  they  have  advanced  to  the  character  of  an 
independent  nation,  feems  to  have  been  diflinguidied 
by  fome  token  of  providential  agency.  And  in  the 
important  revolution  juft  accomplilhed  in  the  fyftem  of 
their  united  government,  the  tranquil  deliberations  and 
voluntary  confent  of  fo  many  difHndl  communities, 
from  which  the  event  lias  refulted,  cannot  be  com- 
pared v/ith  the  means  by  v/hich  moft  governments  have 
been  eRabliflied,  without  fome  return  of  pious  grati- 
tude, with  a  humble  anticipation  of  the  future  bleflings 
which  the  pa  ft:  feem  to  prefage.  Thefe  reflections, 
ariiing  out  of  the  prefent  crifis,  have  forced  themfelves 
too  ftrongly  on  my  mind  to  be  Aipprefled.  You  will 
join  N'^ith  me,  I  truft,  in  tliinking  that  there  are  none 
under  the  influence  of  wbichj  the  proceedings  of  a 
new  and  free  government  can  more  aufpicioufly  com- 
mence. 


Speech  of  Paulus  Emilius  to  the  Roman 
People,  as  he  was  about  taking  the  Com- 
mand OF  THEIR  Army. 

YOU  feem  to  me,  Romans,  to  have  exprefled  more 
joy  when  Macedonia  fell  to  my  lot,  than  when 
I  was  elected  conful,  or  entered  upon  that  office. 
And  to  me  your  joy  feemed  to  be  occafloned  by  the 
hopes  you  conceived,  that  I  ihould  put  an  end,  wor- 
thy of  the  grandeur  and  reputation  of  the  Roman 
people,  to  a  war,  which,  in  your  opinion,  has  already 
t)een  of  too  long  continuance.  I  have  reafon  to  believe, 
tliat  the  fame  gods,  who  have  occafloned  Macedonia 
to  fall  to  my  lot,  v/ill  alfo  afiifl  me  with  their  protec- 
tion m  conducting  and  terminating  this  war  fuccefs- 
fuUy.     iiut  of  this,  I  may  venture  to  aflTure  you,  that 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  37 

1  fhall  do  my  utmoft  not  to  fall  fliort  of  your  expe<Sta- 
tions. 

The  fenate  has  wifely  regulated  every  thing  necef^ 
fary  in  the  expedition  I  am  charged  with  ;  and,  as  I 
am  ordered  to  fet  out  immediately,  I  fhall  make  no 
delay  ;  and  I  know  that  my  colleague  Caius  Licinius, 
out  of  his  great  zeal  for  the  public  fervice,  will  raife 
and  march  off  the  troops  appointed  for  me,  with  as 
much  ardor  and  expedition,  as  if  they  were  for  him- 
felf  I  fhall  take  care  to  tranfmit  to  you  as  well  as 
to  the  fenate,  an  exaft  account  of  all  that  paiTes  ♦,  and 
you  may  rely  upon  the  certainty  and  truth  of  my  let- 
ters. But  I  beg  of  you,  as  a  great  favor,  that  you  will 
not  give  credit  to,  or  lay  any  weight,  out  of  credulity, 
upon  the  light  reports,  which  are  frec^uently  fpread 
abroad  without  any  author. 

I  perceive  well,  that  in  this  war,  more  than  in  any 
other,  whatever  refolution  people  may  form  to  obviate 
thefe  rumours,  they  will  not  fail  to  make  impreflion, 
and  infpire  I  know  not  what  difcouragement.  There 
are  thofe  who,  in  company,  and  even  at  table,  com- 
mand armies,  make  difpofitions,  and  prefcribe  all  the 
operations  of  the  campaign.  They  know  better  than 
we,  where  we  fhould  encamp,  and  what  ports  it  is  ne- 
ceffary  for  us  to  feize ;  at  what  time,  and  by  what  de- 
file we  ought  to  enter  Macedonia ;  where  it  is  proper 
to  have  magazines  ;  from  whence,  either  by  fea  or 
land,  we  are  to  bring  provifions ;  when  we  are  to 
fight  the  enemy,  and  when  lie  ftill. 

They  not  only  prefcribe  what  is  beft  to  do  ;  but 
for  deviating  ever  fo  little  from  their  plans,  they  make 
it  a  crime  in  their  conful,  and  cite  him  before  their 
tribunal.  But  know,  Romans,  this  is  of  very  bad  ef- 
fedt  with  your  generals.  All  have  not  the  refolution 
and  conftancy  of  Fabius,  to  defpife  impertinent  reports. 
He  could  choofe  rather  to  fuffer  the  people,  upon  fuch 
unhappy  rumours,  to  invade  his  authority,  than  to  ruin 
affairs  in  order  to  preferye  their  opinion,  and  an  empty 

D 


38  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

I  am  far  from  believing,  that  generals  ftand  in  no 
need  of  advice :  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  who- 
ever would  condu(St  every  thing  alone,  upon  his  own 
opinion,  and  without  counfel,  fhows  more  prefumption 
than  prudence.  But  fome  may  alk,  How  then  fhall 
we  acSt  reafonably  ?  1  anfwer,  by  not  iuffering  any  per- 
fons  to  obtrude  their  advice  upon  your  generals,  but 
fuch  as  are,  in  the  firft  place,  verfed  in  the  art  of  war, 
and  have  learned  from  experience  what  it  is  to  com- 
mand -,  and  in  the  fecond  place,  who  are  upon  the  fpot; 
Vidio  know  the  enemy  ;  are  witnefles  in  perfon  to  all 
that  pafTes ;  and  fharers  with  us  in  all  dangers. 

If  there  be  any  one,  who  conceives  himfelf  capable 
of  aflifting  me  with  his  counfels  in  the  war  you  have 
chnrged  me  with,  let  him  not  refufe  to  do  the  republic 
that  fervice ;  but  let  him  go  with  me  into  Macedo- 
r.iac  Ships,  horfes,  tents,  provifions,  fhall  all  be  pro- 
vided for  him  at  my  charge.  But  if  he  will  not  take 
fo  much  trouble,  and  prefers  the  tranquillity  of  the 
city  to  the  dangers  and  fatigues  of  the  field,  let  him 
not  take  upon  him  to  hold  the  helm,  and  continue  idle 
in  the  port.  The  city  of  itfelf  fupplies  fufficient  mat- 
ter of  difcourfe  on  other  fubjefts  j  but  as  for  thefe,  let 
it  be  iilent  upon  them  ;  and  know,  that  we  Ihall  pay  no 
regard  to  any  counfels,  but  fuch  as  fhall  be  given  us  in 
the  camp  itlelf. 


1 


Exhortation  on  Temperance   in   Plea- 
sure. 

1ET  me  particularly  exhort  youth  to  temperance 
J  in  pleafure.  Let  me  admonifh  them,  to  beware 
of  that  rock  on  which  thoufands,  from  race  to  race, 
continue  to  fplit.  I  he  love  of  pleafure,  natural  to 
man  in  every  period  of  his  life,  glows  at  this  age 
with  exreffive  ardor.  Novelty  adds  freih  charms,  as 
yet,   to   every  gratification.     The   world   appears  to 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2>9 

fpread  a  continual  feaft  *,  and  health,  vigor,  and  high 
fpirits,  invite  them  to  partake  of  it  without  reftraint. 
In  vain  we  warn  them  of  latent  dangers.  Religion  is 
accufed  of  infufferable  feverity,  in  prohibiting  enjoy- 
ment :  and  the  old,  when  they  offer  their  admonitions, 
are  upbraided  with  having  forgotten  that  they  once 
were  young. 

And  yet,  my  friends,  to  what  do  the  reftraints  of 
religion,  and  the  counfels  of  age,  with  refpecl:  to 
pleaiure,  amount  ^  They  may  all  be  comprifed  in  few 
words,  not  to  hurt  yourfelves,  and  not  to  hurt  others, 
by  your  purfuit  of  pleafure.  Within  thefe  bounds, 
pleafure  is  lawful  *,  beyond  them,*  it  becomes  criminal, 
becaufe  it  is  ruinous.  Are  thefe  refiraiiits  any  other, 
than  what  a  wife  man  would  choofe  to  impofe  on  him- 
felf  ?  We  call  you  not  to  renounce  pleafure,  but  to 
enjoy  it  in  fafety.  Inftead  of  abridging  It,  we  exhort 
you  to  purfue  it  on  an  extenfive  plan.  We  propofe 
meafures  for  fecuring  its  pofTeflion,  and  for  prolonging 
its  duration. 

Confult  your  whole  nature.  Conlider  yourfelves 
not  only  as  fenfitlve,  but  as  rational  beings ;  not  only 
as  rational,  but  focial  *,  not  only  as  focial,  but  immor- 
tal. Whatever  violates  your  nature  in  any  of  thefe 
refpe<Sts,  cannot  afford  true  pleafure  5  any  more  than 
that  which  undermines  an  effential  part  of  the  vital 
fyftem  can  promote  health.  For  the  truth  of  this  con- 
cluiion,  we  appeal,  not  merely  to  the  authority  of  re- 
ligion, nor  to  the  teftimony  of  the  aged,  but  to  your- 
felves and  your  own  experience.  We  alk,  whether 
you  have  not  found,  that  in  a  courfe  of  criminal  excefs, 
your  pleafure  was  more  than  compenfated  by  fucceed- 
ing  pain  }  Whether,  if  not  from  every  particular  in- 
ftance,  yet  from  every  habit,  at  leaft,  of  unlawful 
gratification,  there  did  not  fpring  fome  thorn  to  wound 
you  •,  there  did  not  arife  fome  confequence  to  make 
you  repent  of  it  in  the  iffiie  ? 

"  H  *w  long  then,  ye  fimple  ones  !  will  ye  love  fim- 
plicity?"  How  long  repeat  the  fame  round  of  perni- 


4©  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

cious  folly,  and  tamely  expofe  yourfelves  to  be  caughE 
in  the  fame  fnare  ?  If  you  have  any  confideration,  or 
any  firmnefs  left,  avoid  temptations,  for  which  you 
have  found  yourfelves  unequal,  with  as  much  care  as 
you  would  fliun  pertilential  infe(Slion.  Break  off  all 
connexions  with  the  loofe  and  profligate.  *«  When 
dinners  entice  thee,  confent  thou  not.  Look  not  on 
the  wine  when  it  is  red,  when  it  giveth  its  color  in  the 
cup  •,  for  at  the  laft,  it  biteth  like  a  ferpent,  and  fting- 
f»th  like  an  adder.  Remove  thy  way  f/om  the  ftrange 
woman,  and  come  not  near  the  door  of  her  houfe.  Let 
not  thine  heart  decline  to  her  ways  ;  for  her  houfe  is 
ihe  way  to  hell.  Thou  goeft  after  her  as  a  bird  haf- 
teneth  to  the  fnare,  and  knoweth  not  that  it  is  for  his 
life." 

By  thefe  unhappy  exceiTes  of  irregular  pleafure  in 
youth,  how  many  amiable  difpofitions  are  corrupted 
or  deftroyed  I  How  many  rifing  capacities  and  powers 
are  fuppreiTed  !  How  many  flattering  hopes  of  parents 
and  friends  are  totally  extinguifhed  !  Who  but  muft 
drop  a  tear  over  human  nature,  when  he  beholds  that 
morning  which  arofe  fo  bright,  overcafl:  with  fuch  un- 
timely darknefs  ;  that  good  humor  which  once  capti- 
vated all  hearts  ;  that  vivacity  which  fparkled  in  every 
company  ;  thofe  abilities  which  were  fitted  for  adorn- 
ing the  higheft  Nation,  all  facrificed  at  the  fhrine  of 
low  fcnfuality  ;  and  one,  who  was  formed  for  running 
tlie  fair  career  of  life  in  the  midft  of  public  efteem,  cut 
off  by  Lis  vices  at  the  beginning  of  his  courfe,  or  funk, 
for  the  whole  of  it,  into  infignificancy  and  contempt  ! 
Thefe,  O  flnful  pleafure  !  are  thy  trophies.  It  is  thus, 
that,  co-operating  v;ith  the  foe  of  God  and  man,  thou 
degradeft  human  nature,  and  blafteft  the  opening  prof> 
peds  of  human  felicity. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  41 


Judah's  Plea  for  his  Brother  Benjamin, 
BEFORE  Joseph  in  Egypt. 

WHEN  we  appeared  before  you,  Sir,  the  firft 
time,  we  anfwered  without  refer ve,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  ftricSteft  truth,  all  the  quefiions  which 
you  were  pleafed  to  put  to  us  concerning  our  family. 
We  acquainted  you,  that  we  had  a  father,  heavily  la- 
den with  years,  bn.it  ftill  more  heavily  with  misfortunes  ; 
a  father,  whofe  whole  life  had  been  one  continued  ilrug- 
gle  with  adverfity.  We  added  that  we  had  a  brother 
peculiarly  dear  to  him,  as  the  children  born  towards 
the  end  of  their  life  generally  are  to  old  men,  and  who 
is  the  only  one  remaining  of  his  mother  ;  his  brother 
having  come  in  early  youth  to  a  moft  tragical  end. 

You  commanded  us,  as  the  proof  of  our  veracity  and 
innocence,  to  bring  that  brother  unto  you  ;  and  your 
command  was  delivered  with  fuch  threatenings,  that 
the  terror  of  them  accompanied  us  all  the  way  back  to 
our  country,  and  embittered  the  remainder  of  our  jour- 
ney. We  reported  every  thing  minutely  to  our  father, 
as  you  dire^ed  us.  Kefolutely  and  long,  he  refufed  to 
intruft  us  with  the  care  of  that  child.  Love  fuggefled 
a  thousand  caufes  of  apprehenfion  upon  his  account. 
He  loaded  us  with  the  bitterell:  reproaches  for  havmg 
declared  that  we  had  another  brother. 

Subdued  by  the  famine,  he  at  length  relutStantly  con- 
fented  •,  and  putting  his  beloved  fon,  this  unhappy 
youth,  into  our  hands,  conjured  us  by  every  dear, 
every  awful  name,  to  guard  with  tenderncfs  his  pre- 
cious life  ;  and  as  we  would  not  fee  him  expire  before 
our  eyes  in  anguilh  and  defpnir,  to  bring  him  back  in 
fafety.  He  parted  with  him  as  with  a  limb  torn  from 
his  own  body  ;  and  in  an  agony  of  grief  mexpreffible, 
deplored  the  dreadful  nec^^iliry  which  feparated  him 
from  a  fon,  on  whom  aii  the  happincfs  of  his  life  dc- 
gended. 

15  ;j 


42  THE  COLtTMBIAN  ORATOR. 

How  then  .-^.n  we  appear  before  a  father  of  fuch 
delicate  fendbihty  ?  With  what  eyes  fhall  we  dare  to 
look  upon  him,  unlefs  we  carry  back  with  us  this  fon 
of  his  right  hand,  this  fVafF  of  his  old  age,  whom,  alas  ! 
you  have  condemned  to  flavery  ?  The  good  old  man 
will  expire  in  horrors  dreadful  to  nature,  as  foon  as  he 
ihall  find  that  his  fon  is  not  with  us.  Our  enemies 
will  infult  over  us  under  thefe  misfortunes,  and  treat 
us  as  (he  moft  infamous  of  parracides. 

I  muft  appear  to  the  world,  and  to  myfelf,  as  the 
perpetrator  of  that  moii  horrid  of  crimes,  the  murder 
of  a  fither  j  for  it  was  I  who  moft  urgently  prefl'ed 
my  father  to  yield.  I  engaged  by  the  moft  folemn 
promifes,  and  the  moft  facred  pledges,  to  bring  the  child 
back.  Me  he  intrufted  with  the  facred  depofit,  and  of 
my  hand  he  will  require  it.  Have  pity,  I  befeech  you, 
on  the  deplorable  condition  of  an  old  man,  ftripped  of 
his  lair  comfort  *,  and  whofe  mifery  will  be  aggravated 
by  refle(fting  that  he  forefaw  its  approach,  and  yet  want- 
ed refoiution  to  prevent  it. 

If  your  juft  indignation  muft  needs  have  a  facrifice, 
Iiere  I  am  ready,  at  the  price  of  my  liberty  or  of  my 
life,  to  expiate  this  young  man's  guilt,  and  to  purchafe 
his  releafe  !  Grant  this  requeft,  not  fo  much  for  the 
fake  of  the  youth  himfelf,  as  of  his  abfent  father,  who 
never  offended  you,  but  who  venerates  your  perfon 
and  efteems  your  virtues. 

Suffer  us  not  to  plead  in  vain  for  a  fhelter  under  your 
right  hand,  to  which  we  flee,  as  to  an  holy  altar,  con- 
fecrated  as  a  refuge  to  the  miferable.  Pity  an  old  man, 
who,  during  the  whole  courfe  of  a  long  life,  has  culti- 
vated arts  becoming  a  man  of  wifdom  and  probity,  and 
who,  on  account  of  his  amiable  qualities,  is  almofl 
adored  by  the  inhabitants  of  Syria  and  Canaan,  though 
he  prf  feffes  a  religion,  and  follows  a  mode  of  living 
totally  different  from  theirs. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  43 

Extract  from  the  Plea  of  Thomas  MuiRj 

ESQi  AT  HIS  CELEBRATED  TriAL  IN  SCOTLAND. 

Gentlemen  of  the  Jury, 

THIS  is  now  perhaps  the  laft  time  that  I  {hall  ad- 
drefs  my  country.  I  have  explored  the  tenor 
of  my  part  life.  Nothing  fliall  tear  from  me  the  rec- 
ord of  my  departed  days.  The  enemies  of  reform  have 
fcrutinized,  in  a  manner  hitherto  unexampled  in  Scot- 
land, every  aftion  I  may  have  performed,  every  word 
I  may  have  uttered.  Of  crimes,  moft  foul  and  horri- 
ble, have  I  been  accufed  :  of  attempting  to  rear  the 
ftandard  of  civil  war  ;  to  plunge  this  land  in  blood,  and 
to  cover  it  with  defoiation.  At  every  ftep,  as  the  evi- 
dence of  the  crown  advanced,  my  innocency  has  bright- 
ened. So  far  from  inflaming  the  minds  of  men  to  fe- 
dition  and  outrage,  all  the  witnefies  have  concurred, 
that  my  only  anxiety  was,  to  imprefs  upon  them  the 
necefiiry  of  peace,  of  good  order,  and  of  good  morals. 

What  then  has  been  my  crime  ?  Not  the  lending  to 
a  relation  a  copy  of  Mr.  Paine's  Works  ;  not  the  giving 
away  to  another  a  few  numbers  of  an  innocent  and 
conlHtutional  publication  ;  but  for  having  dared  to  be, 
according  to  the  meafure  of  my  feeble  abilities,  a  ftren- 
uous  and  a£live  advocate  for  an  equal  reprefentation  of 
the  PEOPLE,  in  the  HOUSE  OF  1  HE  PEOPLE  ; 
for  having  dared  to  attempt  to  accomplilh  a  meafure,  by 
legal  means,  which  was  to  diminifh  the  weight  of  their 
taxes,  and  to  put  an  end  to  the  profufion  of  their  blood. 

From  my  infancy  to  this  moment,  I  have  devoted 
myfelf  to  the  caufe  of  the  PEOPLE.  It  is  a  good 
caufe.  It  will  ultimately  prevail.  It  will  finally  tri- 
umph. Say  then  openly,  in  your  verdiiSl,  if  you  do  con- 
demn me,  which  I  prefume  you  will  not, that  it  is  for  my 
attachmentto  this  caufe  alone, and  not  forthofe  vain  and 
wretched  prt-texts  ftated  in  the  indictment, intended  on- 
ly to  color  and  difguife  the  real  motives  of  my  accuf^- 


44  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

tion.  The  time  will  come,  when  men  muft  ftand  or  fall 
by  their  actions ;  when  all  human  pageantry  {hall  ceafe; 
when  the  hearts  of  all  Ihall  be  laid  open  to  view. 

If  you  regard  your  moft  important  interefts  j  if  you 
wifli  that  your  confciences  fhould  whifper  to  you  words 
of  confolation,  rather  than  fpeak  to  you  in  the  terrible 
language  of  remorfe,  weigh  well  the  verdidt  you  are  to 
pronounce. 

As  for  me,  I  am  carelefs  and  indifferent  to  my  fate. 
I  can  look  danger,  and  I  can  look  death  in  the  face  ; 
for  I  am  fhie)ded  by  the  confcioufnels  of  my  own  recti- 
tude. I  may  be  condemned  to  ianguilh  in  the  recefles 
of  a  dungeon.  I  may  be  doomed  to  afcend  the  fcaf- 
fold.  Nothing  can  deprive  me  of  the  recollection  of 
the  paft  ;  nothing  can  deftroy  my  inward  peace  of 
mind,  arifing  from  the  remembrance  of  having  dif- 
charged  my  duty. 


On  the  starry  Heavens. 

« 

TO  us  who  dwell  on  its  furface,  the  earth  is  by 
far  the  moft  exteniive  orb  that  our  eyes  can  any 
where  behold.  It  is  aUb  clothed  with  verdure  ;  dif- 
tingiijfhed  by  trees  *,  and  adorned  with  a  variety  of 
beautiful  decorations.  Whereas,  to  a.  fpecStator  placed 
on  one  of  the  planets,  it  wears  a  uniform  afpeCt  ;  looks 
all  luininons,  and  no  larger  than  a  fpot.  To  beitjgs 
who  dwell  at  ftill  greater  dillances,  it  entirely  difap- 
pears. 

That  which  we  call,  alternately,  the  morning  and 
evening  ftar  ^  as  in  one  part  of  her  orbit,  fhe  rides 
foremoft  in  the  proc*  flion  of  night  *,  in  the  other,  ufli- 
ers  in,  and  anticipates  the  dawn,  is  a  planetary  world ; 
Avhich,  with  the  five  others,  that  fo  wonderfully  vary 
their  myftic  dance,  are  in  themfelves  dark  bodies,  and 
lliine  only  by  reflection  ;  have  fields,  and  feas,  and  fkies 
of  their  own  j  are  furuilhed  with  all  accommodations 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  45 

for  animal  fubfiftence,  and  are  fuppofed  to  be  abodes 
of  intelle<n:ual  life.  All  which,  together  with  this  our 
earthly  habitation,  zrt  dependant  on  that  grand  dif- 
penfer  of  divine  munificence,  the  fun  ;  receive  their 
light  from  the  diftribution  of  his  rays;  derive  their 
comfort  from  his  divine  agency. 

The  fun  is  the  great  axle  of  heaven,  about  which, 
the  globe  we  inhabit,  and  other  more  fpacious  orbs, 
wheel  their  dated  courfes.  The  fun,  though  feem- 
ingly  fmaller  than  the  dial  it  illuminates,  is  abundantly 
larger  than  this  whole  earth  ;  on  which  fo  many  lofty 
mountains  rife,  and  fuch  vaft  oceans  roll.  A  line,  ex- 
tending through  the  centre  of  that  refplendent  orb, 
would  meafure  more  than  eight  hundred  thoufand 
miles.  A  girdle,  formed  to  furround  it,  would  require 
a  length  of  millions.  Were  its  folid  contents  to  be  es- 
timated, the  account  would  overpower  our  underftand- 
ing,  and  be  almoll  beyond  the  power  of  language  to 
cxprefs. 

Are  we  ftartled  at  thefe  reports  of  aftronomy  ?  Are 
we  ready  to  cry  out  in  a  tranfport  of  furprife,  How 
mighty  is  the  Being,  who  kindled  fuch  a  prodigious 
fire,  and  who  keeps  alive,  from  age  to  age,  fuch  an 
enormous  mafs  of  flame  !  Let  us  attend  our  philofoph- 
ic  guides,  and  we  fhall  be  brought  acquainted  with 
fpeculations  more  enlarged,  and  more  amazing. 

This  fun,  with  all  attendant  planets,  is  but  a  very 
little  part  of  the  grand  machine  of  the  univerfe.  Eve- 
ry  ftar,  though  in  appearance  no  bigger  than  the  dia- 
mond that  glitters  on  a  lady's  ring,  is  really  a  mighty 
globe ;  like  the  fun  in  fize,  and  in  glory ;  no  lefs  fpa- 
cious *,  no  lefs  luminous  than  the  radiant  fource  of  our 
day.  So  that  every  ftar  is  not  barely  a  world,  but  the 
centre  of  a  magnificei^  fyflem ;  has  a  retinue  of  worlds, 
irradiated  by  its  beams,  and  revolving  round  its  attrac- 
tive influence.  All  which  are  loii  to  our  fight  in  un- 
meafurable  wilds  of  ether. 

That  tise  ft  trs  appear  like  fo  many  diminutive,  and 
fcarcely  dilunguilhable  points,  is  owing  to  their  i^iy 


46  THiE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

menfe,  and  inconceivable  diftance.  Such  a  diftance, 
that  a  cannon  ball, could  it  continue  its  impetuous  flight, 
with  unabating  rapidity,  would  not  reach  the  neareft  of 
thofe  twinkling  luminaries  for  more  than  five  hundred 
thoufand  years  1 

Can  any  thing  be  more  wonderful  than  thefe  obfer- 
vations  ?  Yes ;  there  are  truths  far  more  flupendous  v 
there  are  fcenes  far  more  extenlive.  As  there  is  no 
end  of  the  Almighty  Maker*s  greatnefs,  fo  no  imagin- 
ation can  fet  limits  to  his  creating  hand.  Could  you 
foar  beyond  the  moon,  and  pafs  through  all  the  plane- 
tary choir ;  could  you  wing  your  way  to  the  higheft 
apparent  flar,  and  take  your  ftand  on  one  of  thofe  lofty 
pinnacles  of  heaven,  you  would  there  fee  other  Hdcs 
expanded  ;  another  fun,  diftributing  his  inexhauftible 
beams  by  day ;  other  ftars  which  gild  the  horrors  of 
the  alternate  night;  and  other,  perhaps,  nobler  fyftems, 
eftablifhed  in  unknown  profufion,  through  the  bound- 
lefs  dimeniions  of  fpace.  Nor  do  the  dominions  of  the 
univerfal  Sovereign  terminate  there.  Even  at  the  end 
of  this  vafl:  tour,  you  would  find  yourfelf  advanced  no 
further  than  the  fuburbs  of  creation  ;  arrived  only  at 
the  frontiers  of  the  great  JEHOVAH's  kingdom. 


Paper,  a  Poem. 

SOME  wit  of  old  ;  fuch  wits  of  old  there  were^ 
V/hofe  hints  fhow'd  meaning, whofe  allufions,  caVe, 
By  one  brave  ftroke,  to  mark  all  human  kind, 
Call'd  clear  b/arik  paper  every  infant  mind  ; 
When  ftill,  as  opening  fenfe  her  dictates  wrote, 
Fair  virtue  put  a  feal,  or  vice  a  blot.      ' 

The  thought  was  happy,  pertinent,  and  true, 
Methinks  a  genius  might  the  plan  purfue. 
I,  (c<in  you  pardon  mv  prefumption  ?)  I, 
No  wit,  no  genius,  yet  for  once  v^^iU  irj. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  47 

•   Various  the  papers,  various  wants  produce, 
The  wants  of  fafhion,  elegance,  and  ufe. 
Men  are  as  various  :  and,  if  right  I  fcan^ 
Each  fort  oi paper  reprefents  fome  man. 

Pray  note  the  fop  *,  half  powder  and  half  lace ; 
Nice,  as  a  band-box  were,  his  dwelling-place; 
He's  the  gilt  paper ^  which  apart  you  ftore. 
And  lock  from  vulgar  hands  in  the  fcrutoire. 

Mechanics,  fervants,  farmers,  and  fo  forth, 
Are  copy  paper  of  inferior  worth  ; 
Lefs  priz'd,  more  ufeful,  for  your  defk  decreed. 
Free  to  all  pens,  and  prompt  at  ev'ry  need. 

The  wretch,  whom  av'rice  bids  to  pinch  and  fpare. 
Starve,  cheat,  and  pilfer,  to  enrich  an  heir, 
Is  coTwi't  h-oivn  paper,  fuch  as  pedlars  choofe 
To  wrap  up  wares,  which  better  men  will  ufe. 

Take  next  the  mifer's  contraH-,  who  deftroys 
Health,  fame,  and  fortune,  in  a  round  of  joys. 
Will  any  paper  match  him  ?   Yes,  throughout, 
Jle's  a  true  jinking  paper  f  paft  all  doubt. 

The  retail  politician's  anxious  thought 
Deems  this  fide  always  right,  and  that  ftark  naught^j 
He  foams  with  cenfure  ;  with  applaufe  he  raves, 
A  dupe  to  rumours,  and  a  tool  of  knaves ; 
He'll  want  no  type  his  weaknefs  to  proclaim, 
While  fuch  a  thing  as  fools-cap  has  a  name. 

The  hafty  gentleman,  whofe  blood  runs  high^ 
Who  picks  a  quarrel  if  you  ftep  awry, 
Who  can't  a  jeft,  or  hint,  or  look  endure : 
What's  he  ?  What  ?  Touch-paper  to  be  fure. 

What  are  our  poets,  take  them  as  they  fall. 
Good,  bad,. rich,  poor,  much  read,  not  read  at  all? 
Them  and  their  works  in  the  fame  ch«fs  you'll  find^ 
They  are  the  mere  tvajle-paper  of  mankind.- 


48  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Obferve  the  maiden,  innocently  fweet. 
She's  fair  luhite  paper,  an  unfullied  fheet ; 
On  which  the  happy  man,  whom  fate  ordains. 
May  write  his  nanuy  and  take  her  for  his  pains. 

One  inftance  more,  and  only  one  I'll  bring ; 
*Tis  the  great  man  who  fcorns  a  little  thing ; 
Whofe  thoughts,  whofe  deeds,  whofe  maxims  are  his 
Form'd  on  the  feelings  of  his  heart  alone  :  [own, 

True  genuine  ro^al paper  is  his  breafl: ; 
Of  all  the  kinds  moft  precious,  pureft,  beft. 


Extract  from  Cato's  Speech  before  the 
Roman  Senate,  after  twe  Conspiracy  of 
Catiline. 

1HAVE  often  fpoken  before  you,  Fathers,  with 
fome  extent,  to  complain  of  luxury  and  the 
greedinefs  for  money,  the  twin  vices  of  our  corrupt 
citizens ,  and  have  thereby  drawn  upon  myfelf  abun- 
dance of  enemies.  As  I  never  fpared  any  fault  in  my- 
felf, I  was  not  eaiily  inclined  to  favor  the  criminal  ex- 
cefTes  of  others. 

But  though  you  paid  little  regard  to  my  remon- 
ftrances,  the  Commonwealth  has  ftill  fubfifted  by  its 
own  ftrength  ;  has  borne  itfelf  up,  notwithflanding 
your  neglect.  It  is  not  now  the  fame.  Our  manners, 
good  or  bad,  are  not  the  queAion,  nor  to  preferve  the 
greatnefs  and  luftre  of  the  Roman  empire  ;  but  to 
refolve  whether  all  we  pofTefs  and  govern,  well  or  ill, 
fhall  continue  ours,  or  be  transferred  with  ourfelves  to 
enemies. 

At  fuch  a  time,  in  fuch  a  ftate,  fome  talk  to  us  of 
lenity  and  compaffion.  It  is  long  that  we  have  loft 
the  right  names  of  things.  The  Commonwealth  is  in 
this  deplorable  fituation,  only  becaufe  we  call  beftow- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  49 

ing  other  people's  eftates,  liberality,  and  audacioufnefs 
in  perpetrating  crimes,  courage. 

Let  fuch  men,  fince  they  will  have  it  To,  and  it  is 
become  the  eftablilhed  mode,  value  themfelves  upon 
their  liberality  at  the  expenfe  of  the  Allies  of  the  em- 
pire, and  of  their  lenity  to  the  robbers  of  the  public 
treafury  -,  but  let  them  not  make  a  largefs  of  our  blood ; 
and,  to  fpare  a  fmall  number  of  vile  wretches,  expofe 
all  good  men  to  deil:rii(5tion. 

Do  not  imagine,  F.ithers,  tliat  it  was  by  arms  cur 
anceftors  rendered  this  Commonwealth  {o  great,  from 
fo  fmall  a  beginning.  If  it  had  been  fo,  we  fliould 
now  fee  it  much  more  flourifliing,  as  we  have  more  al- 
lies and  citizens,  more  horfe  and  foot,  than  they  had. 
But  they  had  other  things,  that  made  them  great,  of 
which  no  traces  remain  amongft  us :  at  home,  labor 
and  induftry  ;  abroad,  juft  and  eciuitable  government; 
a  conliancy  of  foul,  and  an  innocence  of  manners,  that 
Jsept  them  perfcdlly  free  in  their  councils  ;  unreftrain- 
ed  either  by  the  remembrance  of  paft  crimes,  or  by 
craving  appetites  to  fatisfy. 

For  thefe  virtues,  we  have  luxury  and  avarice  *,  or 
madnefs  to  fquander,  joined  with  no  lefs,  to  gain  ;  the 
State  is  poor,  and  private  men  are  rich.  We  admire 
nothing  but  riches;  we  give  ourfelves  up  to  floth  and 
effeminacy  ;  we  make  no  diftincStion  between  the  good 
and  the  bad  ;  whilft  ambition  engroiles  all  the  rewards 
of  virtue.  Do  you  wonder,  then,  that  dangerous  con- 
fpiracies  fliould  be  formed  ?  Wliilft  you  regard  noth- 
ing but  your  private  intereft;  whilfl  voluptuoufnefs 
folely  employs  you  at  home,  and  avidity  or  favor  gov- 
erns you  here,  the  Commonwealth,  without  defence^ 
is  expofed  to  the  devices  of  any  one  who  thinks  fit  to 
attack  it. 


£ 


50  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 

Dialogue  between  the  Ghosts  of  an  En- 
glish Duellist,  a  North-American  Savage, 
AND  Mercury. 

Duelli/}      1\  /TERCURY,  Charon's  boat  is  on  the 

*  Jl\  A  ^ther  {ide  of  the  water.  Allow  me,  - 
before  it  returns,  to  have  fome  converfation  with  the 
North-American  Savage,  whom  you  brought  hither 
with  me.  I  never  before  faw  one  of  that  fpecies.  He 
looks  very  grim.  Pray,  Sir,  what  is  your  name  ?  I 
underftand  you  fpeak  Englilh. 

Savage.  Ye?,  I  learned  it  in  my  childhood,  having 
been  bred  for  fome  years  among  the  Englifli  of  New- 
York.  But,  before  I  was  a  man,  I  returned  to  my  val- 
iant countrymen,  the  Mohawks  \  and  having  been  vil- 
lancufiy  cheated  by  one  of  yours  in  the  fale  of  fome 
rum,  I  never  cared  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  them 
afterwards.  Yet  I  took  up  the  hatchet  for  them  with 
the  reft  of  my  tribe  in  the  late  war  ngainft  France,  and 
was  killed  while  I  was  out  upon  a  fcalping  party.  But 
I  died  very  well  fatisfied  :  for  my  brethren  were  vic- 
torious \  and,  before  I  was  Ihot,  I  had  glorioufly  fcaip- 
cd  feven  men,  and  five  women  and  children.  In  a 
former  war,  I  had  performed  fVill  greater  exploits.  My 
name  is  the  Bloody  Bear :  it  was  given  me  to  exprefs 
my  iiercenefs  and  valour. 

Dt!el.  Bloody  Bear,  I  refpe6l  you,  and  am  much 
your  humble  fervant.  My  name  is  Tom  Pufhv/ell,  ve- 
ry well  known  at  Arthur's.  I  am  a  gentleman  by  my 
birth,  and  by  profeflion  a  gamefler  and  a  man  cf  honor. 
I  have  killed  men  in  fair  fighting,  in  honorable  lingle 
combat ;  but  don't  underftand  cutting  the  throats  of 
women  and  children. 

Sav.  Sir,  that  is  our  way  of  making  war.  Every  na- 
tion has  its  euftoms.  But  by  the  grimnefs  of  your  coun- 
tenance, and  that  hole  in  your  breaft,  I  prefume  you 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  5 1 

#ere  killed  as  I  was,  in  fome  fcalping  party.  How  hap- 
pened it  that  your  enemy  did  not  take  off  your  icalp  ? 

Duel,  Sir,  I  was  killed  in  a  duel.  A  friend  of  mine 
had  lent  me  a  fum  of  money  ;  and  after  two  or  three 
years,  being  in  great  want  himfelf,  he  afkcd  me  to 
nay  him.  I  thought  his  demand,  which  was  fomevvhat 
peremptory,  an  affront  to  my  honor,  and  fent  him  a 
challenge.  We  met  in  Hyde  Park.  The  fellow  could 
riot  fence :  but  I  was  abfblutely  the  adroitefi:  fworJf- 
man  in  England.  So  I  gave  him  three  or  four  wounds; 
but  at  laft  he  ran  upon  me  with  fuch  impetuofity,  that 
he  put  me  out  of  my  play,  and  I  could  not  prevent  him 
from  whipping  me  through  the  lungs.  I  died  the  next 
day,  as  a  man  of  honor  fhould  ;  without  any  fnivelling 
figns  of  contrition  or  repentance  :  and  he  will  follow 
me  foon ;  for  his  furgeon  has  declared  his  wounds  to 
be  mortal.  It  is  faid  that  his  wife  is  dead  of  grief,  and 
th^t  his  family  of  feven  children  will  be  undone  by  his 
death.  So  I  am  well  revenged,  and  that  is  a  comfort. 
For  my  part,  I  had  no  wife.  I  always  hated  marriage: 
my  mifl-refs  will  take  good  care  of  herfelf,  and  my  chil- 
dren are  provided  for  at  the  foundling  hofpit:a]. 

Sav.  Mercury,  I  won't  go  in  the  boat  with  that 
fellow.  He  has  murdered  his  countryman  :  he  has 
murdered  his  friend  :  I  fay  pofitively  I  won't  go  in  the 
boat  with  that  fellow.  I  will  fwim  over  the  river :  I 
can  fwim  like  a  duck. 

Mer.  Swim  over  the  Styx  !  It  muff  not  be  done  I 
it  is  againft  the  laws  of  Pluto's  empire.  You  niuft  go 
in  the  boat  and  be  quiet. 

"  Sav.  Don't  tell  me  of  laws  :  I  am  a  favage  :  I  value 
no  laws.  Talk  of  laws  to  the  Englifhman  :  there  are 
laws  in  his  country  •,  and  yet  you  fee  he  did  not  regard 
them.  For  they  could  never  allow  him  to  kill  his  feU 
low-fubje£l,  in  time  of  peace,  becaufe  he  afked  him  to 
pny  an  honeft  debt.  I  know,  indeed,  that  the  Eng-ifh 
are  a  barbarous  nation  :  but  they  can't  poffibly  be  fo 
brutal  as  to  make  fuch  things  lawful. 


5  2  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Alcr.  You  reafon  well  againft  him.  But  how  comes 
it  that  you  are  fo  offended  with  murder;  you,  who 
have  frequently  mafficred  women  in  their  fleep,  and 
children  in  the  cradle  ? 

Sav,  I  killed  none  but  my  enemies  •,  I  never  kill- 
ed my  own  countrymen:  I, never  killed  my  friend. 
Here,  take  my  blanket,  and  let  it  come  over  in  the 
boat  •,  but  lee  that  the  murderer  does  not  fit  upon  it, 
or  touch  it.  if  he  does,  I  will  burn  it  inftantly  in  the 
fire  I  fee  yonder.  Farewell.  I  am  determined  to  fwim 
over  the  water. 

Met'.  By  this  touch  of  my  wand,  I  deprive  thee  of 
all  thy  urengtb.     Swim  now  if  thou  canfh 

Sav.  This  is  a  potent  enchanter.  Reftore  me  my 
ilrength,  and  I  promife  to  obey  thee. 

Mer.  I  reflore  it ;  but  be  orderly,  and  do  as  I  bid 
you ;  otherwife  worfe  will  befall  you. 

Duel,  Mercury,  leave  him  to  me.  I'll  tutor  him 
for  you.  Sirrah  Savage,  dofl  thou  pretend  to  be  afha- 
med  of  my  company  ?  Doft  thou  not  know  that  I  have 
kept  the  beft  company  in  England  ? 

Sav.  I  know  thou  art  a  fcoundrel.  Not  pay  thy 
debts !  kill  thy  friend  who  lent  thee  money  for  afking 
thee  for  it  !  Get  out  of  my  fight.  I  will  drive  thee 
into  the  Styx. 

Mer.  Stop.  I  command  thee.  No  violence.  Talk 
tp  him  calmly. 

Sav.  I  muil:  obey  thee.  Well,  Sir,  let  me  know 
what  merit  you  had  to  introduce  you  into  good  com- 
pany ?  What  could  you  do  ? 

Duel.  Sir,  I  gamed  as  I  told  you.  Befides,  I  kept 
a  good  table.  I  eat  as  well  as  any  man  either  in  Eng- 
land or  France. 

Sav.  Eat !  Did  you  ever  eat  the  liver  of  a  French- 
man, or  his  leg,  or  his  fhoulder  ?  There  is  fine  eating 
for  you  !  I  have  eat  twenty.  My  table  was  always  well 
ferved.  My  wife  was  efteemed  the  beft  cook  for  the 
dreffinor  of  man's  flefh  in  all  North- America.  You 
will  not  pretend  to  compare  your  eating  with  mine  r 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  53 

Duel,     I  danced  very  finely. 

Sav.  I'll  dance  with  thee  for  thy  ears.  I  can  dance 
all  day  long.  I  can  dance  the  war  dance  with  more 
fpirit  than  any  man  of  my  nation.  Let  us  fe;^  thee 
begin  it.  How  thou  ftandeil  like  a  poft  !  Has  Mercu- 
ry llruck  thee  with  his  enfeebling  rod  }  Or  art  thou 
alhamed  to  let  us  fee  how  awkward  thou  art  ?  If  he 
would  permit  me,  I  would  teach  thee  to  dance  in  a 
way  that  thou  haft  never  yet  learned.  But  what  elfc 
canft  thou  do,  thou  bragging  rafcal  ? 

Duel.  O  mifery  !  mult  I  bear  all  this !  AVhat  can  I 
do  with  this  fellow  ?  I  have  neither  fwnrd  nor  piftol 
and  his  fhade  feems  to  be  twice  as  ftrong  as  mine. 

Mer.  You  muft  anfwer  his  queftions.  It  was  your 
own  defire  to  have  a  converiation  with  him.  He  is 
not  well  bred  j  but  he  will  teil  you  fome  truths  which 
you  muft  necciT.irily  hear,  when  you  come  before  Rha- 
damanthus.  He  afked  you  what  you  could  do  beiide 
eating  and  dancing. 

Duel.     I  fung  very  agreeably. 

Sav.  Let  me  hear  you  ling  your  death  fong,  or  the 
war  whoop.  I  challenge  you  to  fing.  Come,  begin. 
The  fellow  is  mute.  Mercury,  this  is  a  liar.  He  has 
told  us  nothing  but  lies.     Let  me  pull  out  his  tongue. 

Duel.  The  lie  given  me  !  and  alas  !  I  dare  not  re- 
fent  it  !  What  an  indelible  difgrace  to  the  family  of 
thePufhwells  !   This  is  indeed  tormenting. 

Mer.  Here,  Charon,  take  ihefe  two  favages  to  your 
eare.  How  far  the  barbarifm  of  the  Mohawk  will  ex- 
cufe  his  horrid  acfts,  I  leave  Minos  to  judge.  But  what 
can  be  faid  for  the  Engljftiman  ?  Can  we  plead  the  cuf- 
tom  of  Duelling  ?  A  bad  excufe  at  the  beft  '  but  here 
it  cannot  avail.  The  fpirit  that  urged  him  to  draw  his 
fword  againft  his  friend,  is  not  that  of  honor  ;  it  is  the 
fpirit  of  the  furies  •,  and  to  them  he  muft  go. 

Sav.  If  he  is  to  be  punifhed  for  his  wickednefs, 
turn  him  over  to  me.  I  perfectly  under ftand  the  art 
of  tormenting.  Sirrah,  I  begin  my  work  with  this  box 
E  z 


54  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

on  your  ears,  and  will  foon  teach  you  better  manners 
than  you  have  yet  learned. 

Duel.     Oh  my  honor,  my  honor,  to  what  infamy 
art  thou  fallen. 


Speech  of  an  Indian  Chief,  of  the  Stock- 
bridge  Tribe,  to  the  Massachusetts  Congress, 

IN  the  year    1775. 

Brothers  ! 

YOU  remember,  when  you  firft  came  over  the 
great  waters,  I  was  great  and  you  were  little ; 
very  fmall.  I  then  took  you  in  for  a  friend,  and  kept 
you  under  my  arms,  fo  that  no  one  might  injure  you. 
Since  that  time  we  have  ever  been  true  friends  :  there 
has  never  been  any  quarrel  between  us.  But  now  our 
conditions  are  changed.  You  are  become  great  and 
tall.  You  reach  to  the  clouds.  You  are  feen  all 
round  the  world.  I  am  become  fmall ;  very  little.  I 
am  not  fo  high  as  your  knee.  Now  you  take  care  o£ 
me  ;  and  I  look  to  you  for  prote<Sl:ion. 

Brothers  !  I  am  forry  to  hear  of  this  great  quarreV 
between  you  and  Old  England.  It  appears  that  blood 
muft  foon  be  fhed  to  end  this  quarrel.  We  never  till  this 
day  underftood  the  foundation  of  this  quarrel  between 
you  and  the  country  you  came  from.  Brothers ! 
Whenever  I  fee  your  blood  running,  you  will  foon 
find  me  about  you  to  revenge  my  brothers'  blood. 
Although  I  am  low  and  very  fmall,  I  will  gripe  hold 
of  your  enemy's  heel,  that  he  cannot  run  fo  faft,  and 
fo  light,  as  if  he  had  nothing  at  his  heels. 

Brothers  !  You  know  I  am  not  fo  wife  as  you  are, 
therefore  I  afk  your  advice  in  what  I  am  now  going  to 
fay.  I  have  been  thinking,  before  you  come  to  a6\ion, 
to  take  a  run  to  the  weftward,  and  feel  the  mind  of 
my  Indian  brethren,  the  Six  Nations,  and  know  how 
they  ftand  j  whether  tjiiey  are  on  your  fide,  or  for 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  55. 

your  enemies.  If  I  find  they  are  againft  you,  I  will 
try  to  turn  their  minds.  I  think  they  will  \ii\en  to 
me  ;  for  they  have  always  looked  this  way  for  advice, 
concerning  all  important  news  that  comes  from  the 
rifing  fun.  If  they  hearken  to  me,  you  will  not  be 
afraid  of  any  danger  from  behind  you.  However  their 
minds  are  affected,  you  fliall  foon  know  by  me.  Now 
I  think  I  can  do  you  more  fervice  in  this  way  than  by 
marching  off  immediately  to  Boflon,  and  ftaying  there. 
It  may  be  a  great  while  before  blood  runs.  Now,  as 
I  faid,  you  are  wifer  than  I,  I  leave  this  for  your  con- 
fideration,  whether  I  come  down  immediately,  or  wait 
till  I  hear  fome  blood  is  fpilled. 

Brothers  !  I  would  not  have  you  think  by  this, 
that  we  are  falling  back  from  our  engagements.  We 
are  ready  to  do  any  thing  for  your  relief,  and  fhall  be 
guided  by  your  counfel. 

Brothers  !  One  thing  I  afk  of  you,  if  you  fend  for 
me  to  fight,  that  you  will  let  me  fight  in  my  own 
Indian  way.  I  am  not  ufed  to  fight  Engiifh  fafliion  ; 
therefore  you  muft  not  expedl  I  can  train  like  your 
men.  Only  point  out  to  me  where  your  enemies 
keep,  and  that  is  all  I  fhall  want  to  know. 


On  the  Creation  of  the  World. 

TO  the  ancient  philofophers,  creation  from  noth- 
ing appeared  an  unintelligible  idea.  They  main- 
tained the  eternal  exiflence  of  matter,  which  they 
fuppofed  to  be  modelled  by  the  fovereign  mind  of  the 
univerfe,  into  the  form  which  the  earth  now  exhibits. 
But  there  is  nothing  in  this  opinion  which  gives  it  any 
title  to  be  oppofed  to  the  authority  of  revelation.  The 
do6lrine  of  two  felf-exiftent,  independent  principles, 
God  and  matter,  the  one  a6iive,  the  other  paffive,  is  a 
hypothefis  which  prefents  difficulties  to  human  reafon, 
at  leafi:  as  great  as  the  creation  of  matter  from  nothing. 
Adhering  then  to  the  teitimony  of  fcripture,  we  believe. 


5<J  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

that  "  in  the  beginning,  God  created,"  or  from  non-ex- 
iftence  brought  into  being,  "the  heavens  and  the  earth." 

But  though  there  was  a  period  when  this  globe, 
with  all  that  we  fee  upon  it,  did  not  exift,  we  have 
no  reafon  to  think,  that  the  wifdom  and  power  of  the 
Almighty  were  then  without  exercife  or  employment. 
Boundlefs  is  the  extent  of  his  dominion.  Other 
globes  and  worlds,  enlightened  by  other  funs,  may 
then  have  occupied,  they  iiill  appear  to  occupy,  the 
immenfe  regions  of  fpace.  Numberlefs  orders  of  beings, 
to  us  unknown,  people  the  wide  extent  of  the  uni- 
verfe,  and  afford  an  endlefs  variety  of  obje6ls  to  the 
ruling  care  of  the  great  Father  of  all.  At  length,  in 
the  courfe  and  progrefs  of  his  government,  there  ar- 
rived a  period  when  this  earth  was  to  be  called  into 
exiftence.  When  the  fignal  moment,  predeftinated 
from  all  eternity,  was  come,  the  Deity  arofe  in  his 
might,  and  with  a  word  created    the  world. 

What  an  illuftrious  moment  was  that,  when,  from 
non-exiftence,  there  fprang  at  once  into  being  this 
mighty  globe,  on  which  fo  many  millions  of  creatures 
now  dwell  !  No  preparatory  meafures  were  required. 
No  long  circuit  of  means  was  employed.  *'  He  fpake, 
and  it  was  done  :  He  commanded,  and  it  ftood  faft." 
The  earth  was,  at  lirft,  *«  without  form,  and  void  ; 
and  darknefs  was  on  the  face  of  the  deep."  The  Al- 
mighty furveyed  the  dark  abyfs  ;  and  fixed  bounds  to 
the  feveral  diviiions  of  nature.  He  faid,  "Let  there 
be  light,  and  there  was  light." 

Then  appeared  the  fea,  and  the  dry  land.  The 
mountains  rofe  ;  and  the  rivers  flowed.  The  fun  and 
moon  began  their  courfe  in  the  fkies.  Herbs  and  plants 
clothed  the  ground.  The  air,  the  earth,  and  the  wa- 
ters, were  ftored  with  their  refpe<Sl:ive  inhabitants.  At 
laft,  man  was  made  after  the  image  of  God.  He  ap- 
peared, walking  with  countenance  ere^t  ;  and  receiv- 
ed his  Creator's  benedi(ftion,  as  the  lord  of  this  new 
world.  The  Almighty  beheld  his  work  when  it  was 
finilhed,  and  pronounced  it  good.    Superior  beings  faw 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  ^y 

with  wonder  this  new  acceflion  to  exiflence.  "  The 
morning  ftars  fang  together  j  and  all  the  fons  of  God 
ihouted  for  joy." 

But  on  this  great  work  of  creation,  let  us  not  mere- 
ly gaze  with  aftonifhment.  Let  us  confider  how  it 
fhould  affecfl  our  conduct,  by  prefcming  the  divine  per- 
fedlions  in  a  light  which  is  at  once  edifying  and  com- 
forting to  man.  It  difplays  the  Creator  as  fupreme  in 
power, in  wifdom,and  in  goodnefs.  Let  us  look  around, 
and  furvey  this  ftupendous  edifice,  whirh  we  have  been 
admitted  to  inhabit.  Let  us  think  of  the  extent  of  the 
different  climates  and  regions  of  the  earth  ;  of  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  mountains,  and  of  the  expanfe  of  the 
ocean.  Let  us  conceive  that  immenfe  globe  which  con- 
tains them,  launched  at  once  from  the  hand  of  the  Al- 
mighty ;  made  to  revolve  incelTantly  on  its  axis,  that 
it  might  produce  the  viciflitudes  of  day  and  night  ; 
thrown  forth,  at  the  fame  time,  to  run  its  annual  courfe 
in  perpetual  circuit  through  the  heavens. 

After  such  a  meditation,  where  is  the  greatnefs, 
where  is  the  pride  of  man  ?  Into  what  total  annihila- 
tion do  we  fink,  before  an  omnipotent  Being  ?  Rever- 
ence, and  humble  adoration  ought  fpontaneoufly  to 
arife.  He,  who  feels  no  propenfity  to  worfhip  and 
adore,  is  dead  to  all  fenfe  of  grandeur  and  majefly  ; 
has  extinguifhed  one  of  the  moft  natural  feelings  <?f 
the  human  heart. 


Lines   spoken    at    a   School-Exhibition, 

BY  A  LITTLE  BoY  SEVEN  YeARS  OLD, 

YOU'D  fcarce  expCiEt  one  of  my  age, 
To  fpeak  in  public  on  the  ftage  -, 
And  if  I  chance  to  fall  below 
Demofthenes  or  Cicero, 
Don't  view  me  with  a  critic's  eye, 
But  pafs  my  imperfedions  by. 


^g  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Large  ftreams  from  little  fountains  flow  ; 

Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow  : 

And  though  I  now  am  fmali  and  young, 

Of  judgment  weak,  and  feeble  tongue  •, 

Yet  all  great  learned  men,  like  me, 

Once  learned  to  read  their  A,  B,  C. 

But  why  may  not  Columbia's  foil 

Rear  men  as  great  as  Britain's  ifle  ; 

Exceed  what  Greece  and  Rome  have  done, 

Or  any  land  beneath  the  fun  ? 

Mayn't  Maflachufetts  boaft  as  great 

As  any  other  lifter  ftate  ? 

Or,  Where's  the  town,  go  far  and  near, 

That  does  not  find  a  rival  here  ? 

Or  Where's  the  boy,  but  three  feet  high, 

Who's  made  improvements  more  than  I  ? 

Thefe  thoughts  infpire  my  youthful  mind 

To  be  the  greateft  of  mankind  ; 

Great,  not  like  Cefar,  ftain'd  with  blood  i 

But  only  great  as  I  am  good. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech  in  ths 
British  Parliament,  in  the  Year  1766,  on 
THE  Subject  of  the  Stamp-Act. 

IT  is  a  long  time,  Mr.  Speaker,  fince  I  have  attended 
in  parliament.  When  the  refolution  was  taken  in 
the  Houfe  to  tax  America,  I  was  ill  in  bed.  If  I 
could  have  endured  to  have  been  carried  in  my  bed, 
fo  great  was  the  agitation  of  my  mind  for  the  confe- 
quences,  that  I  would  have  folicited  fome  kind  hand 
to  have  laid  me  down  on  this  floor,  to  have  borne  my 
teftimony  againft  it.  It  is  now  an  a(Si:  that  has  pafled. 
I  would  fpeak  with  decency  of  every  a6l:  of  this  Houfe  ; 
but  I  muft  beg  the  indulgence  of  the  Houfe  to  fpeak 
of  it  virith  freedom. 

I  hope  a  day  may  be  foon  appointed  to  confider  the 
ftate  of  the  iwtion  with  refpe<St  to  America.     I  hope 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


59 


gentlemen  will  come  to  this  debate  with  all  the  temper 
and  impartiality  that  his  majefty  recommends,  and  the 
'  importance  of  the  fubje<Sl  requires.  A  fubje6l  of  great- 
er importance  than  ever  engaged  the  attention  of  this 
Houfe  !  that  fubje<St  only  excepted,  when,  nearly  a  cen- 
tury ago,  it  was  the  queftion,  whether  you  yourfelves 
were  to  be  bond  or  free.  In  the  mean  time,  as  I  can- 
not depend  upon  health  for  any  future  day,  fuch  is  the 
nature  of  my  infirmities,  I  will  beg  to  fay  a  few  words 
at  prefent,  leaving  the  juftice,  the  equity,  the  policy, 
the  expediency  of  the  a£l  to  another  time. 

I  will  only  fpeak  to  one  point,  which  feems  not  to 
have  been  generally  underftood.  Some  gentlemen  feem 
to  have  conlidered  it  as  a  point  of  honor.  If  gentlemen 
coniider  it  in  that  light,  they  leave  all  meafures  of  right 
and  wrong,  to  follow  a  delufion  that  may  lead  to  de- 
ftrucflion.  It  is  my  opinion  that  this  kingdom  has  no 
right  to  lay  a  tax  upon  the  Colonies.  When  in  this 
Houfe  we  give  and  grant,  we  give  and  grant  what  is 
our  own.  But  in  an  American  tax,  what  do  we  do  ? 
We,  your  Majefty's  Commons  of  Great-Britain,  give 
and  grant  to  your  Majefty,  what  ?  our  own  property  ? 
No.  We  give  and  grant  to  your  MajL-fly,  the  property 
of  your  Majefty's  Commons  of  America.  It  is  an  ab- 
furdity  in  terms. 

There  is  an  idea  in  fome,  that  the  Colonies  are  vir- 
tually reprefented  in  this  Houfe.  I  would  fain  know 
by  whom  an  American  is  reprefented  here  ?  Is  he  rep- 
refented by  any  knight  of  the  fhire,  in  any  county  in 
this  kingdom  ?  Or  will  you  tell  him  that  he  is  repre- 
fented by  any  reprefentative  of  a  borough  ;  a  borough, 
tvhich  perhaps  no  man  ever  faw  ?  This  is  what  is  call- 
ed the  rotten  part  of  the  Conftitutlon.  It  cannot  con- 
tinue a  century.  If  it  does  not  drop,  it  mu(^  be  ampu- 
tated.- The  idea  of  a  virtual  reprefentation  of  America, 
in  this  Houfe,  is  the  moft  contemptible  idea  that  ever 
entered  into  the  head  of  a  man.  It  does  not  deferve  a 
ferious  refutation. 


6o  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

The  Commons  of  America,  reprefented  in  their  fev- 
eral  aflemblies,  have  ever  been  in  pofleflion  of  the  exer- 
ciie  of  this,  their  conftitutional  right  of  giving  and 
granting  their  own  money.  They  would  have  been 
flaves  if  they  had  not  enjoyed  it. 

A  great  deal  has  been  faid  without  doors,  of  the 
power,  of  the  flrength  of  America.  It  is  a  topic  which, 
ought  to  be  cautioi;fly  meddled  with.  In  a  good  caufe, 
on  a  found  bottom,  the  force  of  this  counti-y  can  crufli 
America  to  atoms.  I  know  the  valour  of  your  troops. 
I  know  the  Ikill  of  your  officers.  There  is  not  a  com- 
pany of  foot  that  has  ferved  in  America,  out  of  which 
you  may  not  pick  a  man  of  fufficient  knowledge  and 
experience,  to  make  a  governor  of  a  Colony  there.  But 
on  this  ground,  on  the  Stamp- A61,  when  fo  many  here 
will  think  it  a  crying  injuftice,  I  am  one  who  will  lift 
up  my  hands  againfl:  it. 

In  fuch  a  caufe,  your  fuccefs  would  be  hazardous^ 
America,  if  Ihe  fell,  would  fall  like  the  ftrong  man. 
She  would  embrace  the  pillars  of  the  State,  and  pull 
down  the  Conflitution  along  with  her.  Is  this  your 
boafted  peace  ?  Not  to  Iheath  the  fword  in  its  fcabbard, 
but  to  fheath  it  in  the  bowels  of  your  Countrymen  ? 
Will  you  quarrel  with  yourfelves,  nowvthe  whole  Houfe 
-of  Bourbon  is  united  againft  you  .? 

The  Americans  have  been  wronged.  They  have 
been  driven  to  madnefs  by  injuftice.  Will  you  pwnifli 
them  for  the  m^adnefs  you  have  occaiioned  ?  Rather 
let  prudence  and  temper  come  firft  from  this  fide. 
I  will  undertake  for  America,  tliat  flie  will  follow  the 
example. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  will  beg  leave  to  tell  the  Houfe 
what  is  really  my  opinion.  It  is,  that  the  Stamp- A£l 
be  repealed  abfolutely,  totally,  and  immediately. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  6i 

SCE^TE    FROM    THE    FaRCE    OF    LeTKE. 
Enter  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tatoo,  and  ^SOP. 

j,_  _,  "^"ST"^^  don't  you  come  along,  iSlr. 
Mrs.  1  at.  YY  Tatoo  ?  what  the  deuce  are  you 
afraid  of? 

jEf.  Don't  be  angry,  young  lady  ;  the  gentleman 
is  your  hufband,  I  fuppofe. 

Mrs.  Tat.  How  do  you  know  that,  Sir  ?  What, 
you  an't  all  conjurers  in  this  world,  are  you  ? 

^f.  Your  behaviour  to  him  is  a  fufficient  proof  of 
his  condition,  witliout  the  gift  of  conjuration. 

Mrs.  Tat.  Why,  I  was  as  free  with  him  before  mar- 
riage as  I  am  now ;  I  never  was  cov  or  prudifh  in  my 
life. 

^f.  I  believe  you,  madam  ;  pray,  how  long  have 
you  been  married  ?  You  feem  to  be  very  young, 
madam. 

Mrs.  Tat.  I  am  old  enough  for  a  huiband,  and  have 
been  married  long  enough  to  be  tired  of  one. 

JEf.     How  long,  pray  ? 

Mrs.  Tat.  Why,  above  three  months :  I  married 
Mr.  Tatoo  without  my  guardian's  confent. 

^f.  If  you  married  him  with  your  own  confent,  I 
think  you  might  continue  your  ailtclion  a  little  longer. 

Mrs.  Tat.  What  lignifies  what  you  think,  if  I  don't 
think  fo  ,''  we  are  quite  tired  of  one  another,  and  are 
come  to  drink  fome  of  your  le — lethaly — le-lethily,  I 
think  they  call  it,  to  forget  one  another,  and  be  un- 
married again. 

jEf,  The  waters  can't  divorce  you,  madam ;  and 
you  may  eafily  forget  him  without  the  afliftance  of 
lethe. 

Mrs.  Tat.      Aye  !   how  fo  ? 

^f.     By  remembering  continually  he  is  your  huf^ 
band  :  there  are  feveral  ladies  have  no  other  receipts 
But  what  does  the  gentleman  fay  to  thi§  ? 
F 


62  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Mrs.  Tat.     What  fignifies  what  he  fays  ?  I  an*t 
young  and  fo  foolifh  as  that  comes  to,  to  be  dire(Ste< 
by  my  hufband^,  or  to  care  what  either  he  fays,  or  yoi 
fay. 

Mr.  Tat.  Sir,  I  was  a  drummer  in  a  marching  regi-^ 
ment,  when  I  ran  away  with  that  young  lady.  I  im- 
mediately bought  out  of  the  corps,  and  thought  myfelf 
made  forever  j  little  imagining  that  a  poor  vain  fellow 
was  purchafing  fortune  at  the  expenfe  of  his  happinefs, 

^f.  '  Tis  even  fo,  friend  ;  fortune  and  felicity  are 
as  often  at  variance  as  man  and  wife. 

Air.  Tat.  I  found  it  io,  Sir.  This  high  life  (as  I 
thought  it)  did  not  agree  with  me  ;  I  have  not  laugh'd 
'.\nd  fcarcely  flept,  fince  my  advancement  j  and  unlefs 
your  worfhip  can  alter  her  notions,  I  muft  e'en  quit  the 
bleffings  of  a  fine  lady  and  her  portion,  and,  for  con- 
tent, have  recourfe  to  eightpence  a-day  and  my  drum 
again. 

^f.     Pray,  who  has  advifed  you  to  a  feparation  ? 

Airs.  Tat.  Several  youngladies  of  my  acquaintance; 
who  tell  me,  they  are  not  angry  at  me  for  marrying 
him,  but  for  being  fond  of  him  iince  I  have  married 
him  J  and  they  fay  1  Ihould  be  as  complete  a  fine  lady  I 
as  any  of  them,  if  I  would  but  procure  a  feparate  di- 
vorcement. 

Mf.  Pray,  madam,  will  you  let  me  know  what  you 
call  a  fine  lady  ? 

Airs.  Tat.  Why,  a  fine  lady,  and  a  fine  gentleman, 
are  two  of  the  fineft  things  upon  earth. 

^f.  I  have  jufi:  now  had  the  honor  of  knowing 
what  a  fine  gentleman  is  5  fo^,  pray  confine  yourfelf  to 
the  lady. 

Airs.  Tat.  A  fine  lady,  before  marriage,  lives  with 
her  papa  and  mamma,  who  breed  her  up  till  flie  learns 
to  defpife  them,  and  refolves  to  do  nothing  they  bid 
her  ;  this  makes  her  fuch  a  prodigious  favourite,  that 
flie  wants  for  nothing.  And  when  once  fhe  is  heir 
own  miftrefs,  then  comes  the  pleafure  ! 

^f.     Pray  let  us  hear. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  63 

Mrs.  Tat.  She  lies  in  bed  all  the  morning,  rattles 
I  about  all  day,  and  fits  up  all  night  ;  fhe  goes  every 
where,  and  fees  every  thing  \  knows  every  body,  and 
loves  nobody  5  ridicules  her  friends,  coquets  with  her 
lovers,  fets  them  together  by  the  ears,  tells  fibs,  makes 
mifchief,  buys  china,  cheats  at  cards,  keeps  a  lap-dog^ 
and  hates  the  parfon ;  fhe  laughs  much,  talks  loud, 
never  blufhes,  fays  what  fhe  will,  does  what  ilie  will, 
goes  where  flie  will,  marries  whom  flie  pleafes,  hates 
her  hufband  in  a  month,  breaks  his  heart  in  four,  be- 
comes a  widow,  flips  from  her  gallants,  and  begins  the 
world  again.  There's  a  life  for  you  *,  what  do  you> 
think  of  a  fine  lady  now  ? 

^f.  As  I  expected.  You  are  very  yonng,  madam, 
and,  if  you  are  not  very  careful,  your  naiural  nropen- 
fity  to  noiie  and  aiFe<Jl:ation  will  run  you  lieadiong  into 
folly,  extravagance,  and  repentance. 

Mrs.  Tat.     What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 

JEf.  Drink  a  large  quantity  of  lethe  to  the  lofs  of 
your  acquaintance  ;  and  do  you.  Sir,  drink  another, 
to  forget  this  falfe  ftep  of  your  wife  ;  for  whilft  you 
remember  her  folly,  you  can  never  thoroughly  regard 
her  :  and  whilft  you  keep  good  company,  madam,  as 
you  call  it,  and  follow  their  example,  you  can  never 
have  a  jufl  regard  for  your  hufband  ;  fo  both  drink 
and  be  happy. 

Mrs.  Tat.  Well,  give  it  me  whilft  I  am  in  humour, 
or  I  fliall  certainly  change  my  mind  again. 

^f.  Be  patient  till  the  reft  of  the  company  drink, 
and  divert  yourfelf  in  the  mean  tinie  with  walking  in 
the  grove. 

Mrs.  Tat.  Well,  come  along,  hufband,  and  keep 
me  in  humour,  or  I  fliall  beat  you  fuch  an  alarum  as 
you  never  beat  in  all  your  life. 


64  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Extract  from  the  Eulogy  on  Dr.  Frank- 
lin, PRONOUNCED  BY  THE  AbBE  FaUCHET,  IN  THE 

Name  of  the  Commons  of  Paris,  1790.  ^ 

A  SECOND  creation  has  taken  place  ;  the  ele- 
ments of  fociety  begin  to  combine  together  ;  the 
moral  univerfe  is  now  {een  ifiuing  from  chaos  ;  the 
genius  of  Liberty  is  awakened,  and  fprings  up  ;  fhe 
flieds  lier  divine  light  and  creative  powers  upon  the 
two  hemifpheres.  A  great  nation,  rJioniihed  at  feeing 
Iierfelf  free,  ftretches  her  arms  from  one  extremity  of 
the  earth  to  the  other,  and  embraces  the  firft  nation 
that  became  fo  :  the  foundations  of  a  new  city  are  cre- 
ated in  the  two  worlds  ;  brother  nations  haften  to  in- 
habit it.     It  is  the  city  of  mankind  ! 

One  of  the  firH:  founders  of  this  univerfal  city  was 
the  immortal  FRANKLIN,  the  deliverer  of  America. 
The  fecond  founders,  who  accelerated  this  great  work, 
made  it  worthy  of  Europe.  The  legiflators  of  France 
have  rendered  the  mod  folemn  homage  to  his  memory. 
They  have  faid,  "A  friend  of  humanity  is  dead  ; 
mankind  ought  to  be  overwhelmed  with  forrow  !  Na- 
tions have  hitherto  only  worn  mourning  for  Kings  ; 
let  us  airume  it  for  a  man,  and  let  the  tears  of  French- 
men minple  with  thofe  of  Americans,  in  order  to  do 
honor  to  the  mcrnorv  cf  one  of  the  Fathers  of  Lib- 
erty !'^ 

The  city  of  Paris,  which  once  contained  this  philofo- 
pher  v/ithin  its  walls,  which  was  intoxicated  with  the 
pleafure  of  hearing,  admiring,  and  loving  him  ;  of 
oathering  from  hisjips  the  maxims  of  a  moral  legifla- 
tor,  and  of  imbibing  from  the  effufions  of  his  heart  a 
jjafTion  for  the  public  welfare,  rivals  Bofton  and  Phila- 
delpehia,  his  two  native  cities  (for  in  one  he  was  born  as 
it  were  a  man,  and  in  the  other  a  legiflator)  in  its  pro- 
found attachment  to  his  merit  and  his  glory. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  6s 

It  has  commanded  this  funeral  folemnltv  in  order  to 
perpetuate  the  gratitude  and  the  grief  of  this  third 
country,  which,  by  the  courage  and  activity  with  which 
it  has  profited  of  his  leflbns,  has  fliown  itfelf  worthy  of 
having  him  at  once  for  an  inftrudtor  and  a  model. 

In  feledting  me  for  the  interpreter  of  its  wilhes,  it 
has  declared,  that  it  is  lefs  to  the  talents  of  an  orator, 
than  to  the  patriotifm  of  a  citizen,  the  zeal  of  a  preach- 
er of  liberty,  and  the  fenlibility  of  a  friend  of  men,  that 
it  hath  confided  this  folemn  fundlion.  In  this  point  of 
view,  I  may  fpeak  with  firm  confidence  ;  for  I  have 
the  public  opinion,  and  the  tellimony  of  my  own  con- 
fcience,  to  fecond  my  wiflies.  Since  nothing  elfe  is 
wanting  than  freedom,  and  fenfibility,  for  that  fpecies 
of  eloquence  which  this  eulogium  requires,  I  am  fatif- 
fied  ;  for  I  already  poflefs  them. 

My  voice  fhall  extend  to  France,  to  America,  to 
pofterity.  I  am  now  to  do  juitice  to  a  great  man,  the 
founder  of  tranfatlantic  freedom  ;  I  am  to  praife  him 
in  the  name  of  the  mother  city  of  French  liberty.  I 
myfelf  alfo  am  a  man  ;  I  am  a  free  man  j  I  poflefs  the 
futfrages  of  my  fellow-citizens  :  this  is  enough  ;  my 
difcourfe  (hall  be  immortal. 

The  academies,  the  philofophical  focieties,  the  learn- 
ed aflbciations  which  have  done  themfeives  honor  by  in- 
fcribing  the  name  of  Franklin  in  their  records,  can  beft 
appreciate  the  debt  due  to  his  genius,  for  having  ex- 
tended the  power  of  man  over  nature,  and  prefented 
new  and  fublime  ideas,  in  a  ftyle  fimple  as  truth,  and 
pure  as  light. 

It  is  not  the  naturalift  and  the  philofopher  that  the 
orator  of  the  Commons  of  Paris  ought  to  defcribe  ;  it 
is  the  man,  who  hath  accelerated  the  progrefs  of  focial 
order  ;  it  is  the  legijlator,  who  hath  prepared  the  lib- 
erty of  nations  ! 

Franklin,  in  his  periodical  works,  which  had  prodi- 
gious circulation  on  the  continent  of  America,  laid  the 
facred  foundations  of  focia!  morality.  He  was  no  lefs 
inimitable  in  the  developements  of  the  fame  morality, 


66  THF  COLTTMBIAN  ORATOR. 

when  applied  to  the  duties  of  friendfhip,  general  char- 
ity, the  employment  of  one's  time,  the  happiDei^  at- 
tendant upon  good  works,  the  neceffary  combination 
of  private  with  public  welfare,  the  propriety  and  ne- 
ceflii  y  of  induilry  •,  and  to  that  happy  ftate  which  puts 
us  at  eafe  with  fociety  and  with  ourfelves.  The  prov- 
erbs of  "  Old  Henry,"  and  "  Poor  Richard,"  are  in 
the  hands  both  of  the  learned  and  the  ignorant  ;  they 
contain  the  moft  fubiime  mo'-ality,  reduced  to  popular 
lani:;uaQ;e  and  common  comorehenfion  :  and  form  the 
catechifm  of  happinefs  for  all  mankind. 

Franklin  was  too  great  a  moralift,  and  too  well 
acquainted  with  human  affairs,  not  to  perceive  that 
women  were  the  arbiters  of  manners.  He  ftrove  to 
perfect  their  empire  ;  and  accordingly  engaged  them 
to  adorn  the  fceptre  of  virtue  with  their  graces.  It  is 
in  their  power  to  excite  courage  ;  to  overthrow  vice, 
by  means  of  their  difdain  ;  to  kindle  civifm,  and  to  light 
up  in  every  heart  the  holy  love  of  our  country. 

His  daughter,  who  was  opulent  and  honored  with 
the  public  efteem,  helped  to  manufacture  and  to  make 
up  the  cloathing  for  the  army  with  her  own  hands  ; 
and  fpread  abroad  a  noble  emulation  among  the  female 
citizens,  who  became  eager  to  'affift  thofe  by  means  of 
the  needle  and  the  fpindle,  who  were  ferving  the  ftate 
wiih  their  fwords  and  their  guns. 

With  the  charm  ever  attendant  upon  true  wifdom 
and  the  grace  ever  flowing  from  true  fcntiment,  this 
grave  phiiofopher  knew  how  to  converfe  with  the  other 
fex  ;  to  infpire  them  with  a  tafte  for  domeftic  occupa- 
tions J  to  hold  out  to  them  the  prize  attendant  upon 
honor  unaccompanied  by  reproach,  and  inftil  the  duty 
of  cultivating  the  firft  precepts  of  education,  in  order 
to  teach  them  to  their  children  j  and  thus  to  acquit 
the  debt  due  to  nature,  and  fulfil  the  bope  of  focie- 
ty. It  muft  be  acknowledged,  that  in  his  own  coun- 
try, he  >ddrefred  himielf  to  joainds  capable  of  compre- 
hending him. 


THE  COLUMBIAIsr  ORATOR.  67 

Immortal  females  of  America  !  I  will  tell  it  to  the 
daughters  of  France,  and  they  only  are  fit  to  applaud 
you  !  You  have  attained  the  utmoft  of  what  your  fex 
is  capable  ;  you  pofTefs  the  beauty,  the  limplicity,  the 
manners,  at  once  natural  and  pure  j  the  primitive  gra- 
ces of  the  golden  age.  It  was  among  you  that  liberty 
was  firft  to  have  its  origin.  But  the  empire  of  free- 
dom, which  is  extended  to  France,  is  about  to  carry 
your  manners  along  with  it,  and  produce  a  revolution 
in  morals  as  well  as  in  politics. 

Already  our  female  citizens,  (for  they  have  lately 
become  fuch)  are  not  any  longer  occupied  with  thofe 
frivolous  ornaments  and  vain  pleafures,  which  were 
nothing  more  than  the  amufements  of  flavery  ;  they 
have  awakened  the  love  of  liberty  in  the  bofbms  of  fa- 
thers, of  brothers,  and  of  hufbands  ;  they  have  encour- 
aged them  to  make  the  moft  generous  facrifices ;  their 
delicate  hands  have  removed  the  earth,  dragged  it 
along,  and  helped  to  elevate  the  immenfe  amphitheatre 
of  the  grand  confederation.  It  is  no  longer  the  love 
of  voluptuous  foftnefs  that  attracts  their  regard ;  it  is 
the  facred  fire  of  patriotifm. 

The  laws  which  are  to  reform  education,  and  with 
it  the  national  manners,  are  already  prepared  ;  they 
will  advance,  they  will  fortify  the  caufe  of  liberty  by 
means  of  their  happy  influence,  and  become  the  fec- 
ond  faviours  of  their  country  ! 

Franklin  did  not  omit  any  of  the  means  of  being  ufe- 
fu)  to  men,  or  ferviceable  to  fociety.  He  fpoke  to  all 
conditions,  to  both  fexes,  to  every  age.  This  amiable 
moralift:  defcended,  in  his  writings,  to  the  mofl  artlefs 
details  ;  to  the  mofV  ingenuous  familiarities  ;  to  the  firffc 
ideas  of  a  rural,  a  commercial,  and  a  civil  life ;  to  the 
dialogues  of  old  men  and  children  ;  full  at  once  of  all 
the  verdure  and  all  the  maturity  of  wifdom.  In  fhort, 
the  prudent  lefTons  arifing  from  the  expofition  of  thole 
obfcure,  happy,  eafy  virtues,  which  form  fo  many  links 
in  the  chain  of  a  good  man's  life,  derived  immenfe 
weight  from  that  reputation  for  genius  which  he  had 


63  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

acquired,   by  being  one  of  the  firft  naturalifts  and 
greateft  philofophers  in  the  univerfe. 

At  one  and  the  fame  time,  he  governed  nature  in 
the  heavens  and  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Amidft  the 
tempefts  of  the  atmofphere,  he  directed  the  thunder  5 
amidft  the  ftorms  of  fociety,  he  dire(^ed  the  paflions. 
Think,  Gentlemen,  with  what  attentive  docility,  with 
what  religious  refpe<5l,  one  muft  hear  the  voice  of  a 
limple  man,  who  preached  up  human  happinefs,  when 
it  was  recollected  that  it  was  the  powerful  voice  of  the 
fame  man  who  regulated  the  lightning. 

He  electrified  the  confciences,  in  order  to  extract  the 
deftrudtive  fire  of  vice,  exaCtly  in  the  fame  manner  as 
he  elecStrified  the  heavens,  in  order  peaceably  to  invite 
them  from  the  terrible  fire  of  the  elements. 

Venerable  old  man  !  auguft  philofopher  !  legislator 
of  the  felicity  of  thy  country,  prophet  of  the  fraternity 
of  the  human  race,  what  ecftatic  happinefs  embeliifli- 
ed  the  end  of  thy  career  !  From  thy  fortunate  afylum, 
and  in  the  midft  of  thy  brothers  who  enjoyed  in  tran- 
quility the  fruit  of  thy  virtues,  and  the  fuccefs  of  thy 
genius,  thou  haft  fung  fongs  of  deliverance.  The  laft 
looks,  which  thou  didft  caft  around  thee,  beheld  Amer- 
ica happy  j  France,  on  the  other  lide  of  the  ocean, 
free,  and  a  fure  indication  of  the  approaching  freedom 
and  happinefs  of  the  world. 

The  United  States,  looking  upon  themfelves  as  thy 
children,  have  bewailed  the  death  of  the  father  of  their 
republic.  France,  thy  family  by  adoption,  has  honor^ 
ed  thee  as  the  founder  of  her  laws  ;  and  the  humaiv 
race  has  revered  thee  as  the  univerfal  patriarch  wha 
has  formed  the  alliance  of  nature  with  fociety.  Thy 
remembrance  belongs  to  all  ages  j  thy  memory  to  all 
nations  j  thy  glory  to  eternity  I 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  69 


Epilogue  to  Addison's  Cato, 

YOU  fee  mankind  the  fame  in  every  age  : 
Heroic  fortitude,  tyrannic  rage, 
Boundlefs  ambition,  patriotic  truth, 
And  hoary  treafon,  and  untainted  youth, 
Have  deeply  marked  all  periods  and  all  climesj 
The  nobleft  virtues,  and  the  blackeft  crimes. 
Did  Cefar,  drunk  with  power,  and  madly  brave, 
Infatiate  burn,  his  country  to  enflave  ? 
Did  he  for  this,  lead  forth  a  fervile  hoft 
To  fpill  the  choiceft  blood  that  Rome  could  boaft  i 
The  Britifh  Cefar  too  hath  done  the  fame. 
And  doom'd  this  age  to  everlafting  fame. 
Columbia's  crimfon'd  fields  ftill  fmoke  with  gore  ; 
Her  braveft  heroes  cover  all  the  fliore  : 
The  flower  of  Britain,  in  full  martial  bloom. 
In  this  fad  war,  fent  headlong  to  the  tomb. 
Did  Rome's  brave  fenate  nobly  dare  t'  oppofe 
The  mighty  torrent,  ftand  confefs'd  their  foes, 
And  boldly  arm  the  virtuous  few,  and  dare 
The  defp'rate  horrors  of  unequal  war  ? 
Our  fenate  too  the  fame  bold  deed  have  done, 
And  for  a  Cato,  arm'd  a  Wafhington  ; 
A  chief,  in  all  the  ways  of  battle  ikill'd, 
Great  in  the  council,  mighty  in  the  field. 
His  martial  arm  and  fleady  foul  alone,  f 

Have  made  thy  legions  fhake,  thy  navy  groan,     > 
And  thy  proud  empire  totter  to  the  throne.  3 

O,  what  thou  art,  mayft  thou  forever  be. 
And  death  the  lot  of  any  chief  but  thee  ! 
We've  had  our  Decius  too  ;  and  Howe  could  fay, 
Health,  pardon,  peace,  George  fends  America  ; 
Yet  brought  deftru£lion  for  the  olive  wreath  j 
For  health,  contagion,  and  for  pardon,  death. 
Rife  !  then,  my  countrymen,  for  fight  prepare  j 
Gird  on  your  fwords,  and  fearlefs  rufh  to  war  : 


7a  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

*TIs  your  bold  tafk  the  gen'rous  ftrife  to  try  y 
For  your  griev'd  country  nobly  dare  to  die  ! 
No  pent-up  Utica  contracts  your  pow'rs  ; 
For  the  whole  boundlefs  continent  is  ours  f 


Self-Conceit, 
An  Address,  spoken  by  a  very  small  Boy. 

WHEN  boys  are  exhibiting  in  public,  the  politc- 
nefs  or  curiofity  of  the  hearers  frequently  in- 
duces them  to  inquire  the  names  of  the  performers* 
To  fave  the  trouble  of  anfvvers,  fo  far  as  relates  to  my^ 
felf,  my  name  is  Charles  Chatterbox.  I  was  born  in 
this  town  ;  and  have  grown  to  my  prefent  enormoua 
jftature,  without  any  artificial  help.  It  is  true,  I  eat, 
drink,  and  fleep,  and  take  as  much  care  of  my  noble 
felf,  as  any  young  man  about  ^  but  I  am  a  monftrous 
great  ftudent.  There  is  no  telling  the  half  of  what' 
I  have  read. 

Why,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Arabian  Tales  r 
Truth  ;  every  word  truth  !  There's  the  ftory  of  the. 
lamp,  and  of  Rook's  eggs  as  big  as  a  meeting-houfe. 
And  there  is  the  hiftory  of  Sindbad  the  failor.  I  have 
read  every  word  of  them.  And  I  have,  read  Tom 
Thumb's  Folio  through,  Winter  Evening  Tales,  and 
Seven  Champions,  and  Parifmus,  and  Parifmenus,  and 
Valentine  and  Orfon,  and  Mother  Bunch,  and  Seven 
Wife  Mafters,  and  a  curious  book,  entitled,  Think 
well  on't. 

Then  there  is  another  wonderful  book,  containing 
£fty  reafons  why  an  old  bachelor  was  not  married. 
The  firft  was,  that  nobody  would  have  him ;  and  the 
fecond  was,  he  declared  to  every  body,  that  he  would 
not  marry  ;  and  fo  it  went  on  ftronger  and  ftronger. 
Then,  at  the  clofe  of  the  book,  it  gives  an  account  of 
his  marvellous  death  and  burial.  And  in  the  appen- 
dix, it  tells  about  his  being  ground  over,  aud  coming 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  7  i 

T>ut  as  young,  and  as  frtili,  and  as  fair  as  ever.     Then, 
every  few  pages,  is  a  picture  of  him  to  the  life. 

I  have  alfo  read  Robinfon  Crufoe,  and  Reynard  the 
Fox,  and  Moll  Flanders  ;  and  I  have  read  twelve  de- 
lightful novels,  and  Iriih  Rogues,  and  life  of  Saint 
Patrick,  and  Philip  Quarle,  and  Conjurer  Crop,  and 
.-^fop's  Fables,  and  Laugh  and  be  Fat,  and  Toby  Lump- 
kin's Elegy  on  the  Birth  of  a  Chi!d,  and  a  Comedy  on 
the  Death  of  his  Brother,  and  an  Acroflic,  occafioned 
by  a  mortal  ficknefs  of  his  dear  wife,  of  which  flie  re- 
covered. This  famous  author  wrote  a  treatil'e  on  the 
Rife  and  Progrefs  of  Vegetation  ;  and  a  whole  Body 
of  Divinity  he  com.prifed  in  four  lines. 

I  have  read  all  the  works  of  Pero  Gilpin,  whofe 
memory  was  fo  extraordinary,  that  he  never  forgot 
the  hours  of  eating  and  fleeping.  This  Pero  was  a 
rare  lad.  Why,  he  could  ftand  on  his  head,  as  If  it 
were  a  real  pedeftal  ;  his  feet  he  ufed  for  drumfticks. 
He  was  trumpeter  to  the  foot  guards  in  Queen  Betty's 
time  ;  and  if  he  had  not  blown  his  breath  away,  might 
have  lived  to  this  day. 

Then,  I  have  read  the  hiftory  of  a  man  who  married 
for  money,  and  of  a  woman  that  would  wear  her  huf- 
band's  fmall-clothes  in  fpite  of  him  *,  and  I  have  read 
four  bocks  of  riddles  and  rebufes  ;  and  all  that  is  not 
half  a  quarter. 

Now  what  fignifies  reading  fo  much  If  one  can't  tell 
of  iSr^  In  thinking  over  thefe  things,  I  am  fometimes 
fo  loft  in  company,  that  I  don't  hear  any  thing  that  is 
faid,  till  fome  one  pops  out  that  witty  faying,  "  A 
penny  for  your  thoughts."  Then  I  fay,  to  be  fure, 
i  w^as  thinking  of  a  book  I  had  been  reading.  Once, 
in  this  mood,  I  came  very  near  fwallowing  my  cup  and 
faucer  ;  and  another  time,  was  upon  the  very  point  of 
taking  down  a  punch- bowl,  that  held  a  gallon.  Now,  if 
I  could  fairly  have  gotten  them  down,  they  would  not 
have  hurt  me  a  jot  ;  for  my  mind  is  capacious  enough 
for  a  china-fhop.  There  is  no  choking  a  man  of  my 
reading.     Why,  if  my  mind  can  contain  Genii  and 


^%  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Giants,  fixty  feet  high,  and  enchanted  caftles,  why 
not  a  punch-bowl,  and  a  whole  tea-board  ? 

It  v/as  always  conjectured  that  I  fliould  be  a  mon- 
flrous  great  nran  ;  and  I  believe,  as  much  as  I  do  the 
Spanifli  war,  that  I  lliall  be  a  perfect  Brobdingnag  in 
time. 

Well  now,  do  you  fee,  when  I  have  read  a  book,  I 
go  right  off  into  the  company  of  the  ladies  ;  for  they 
are  the  judges  whether  a  man  knows  any  thing  or  not. 
Then  I  bring  on  a  fubjedl:  which  will  fliow  my  parts  to 
the  Deit  advantage  ;  and  I  always  mind  and  fiiy  a  fmart 
thing  juft  before  I  quit. 

You  muft  know,  moreover,  that  I  have  learned  a 
great  deal  of  wit.  I  was  the  firft  man  who  invented 
all  that  people  fay  about  cold  tongues,  and  warm 
tongues,  and  may-bees.  I  invented  the  wit  of  kiffing 
the  candlefiiick  when  a  lady  holds  it ;  as  alfo  the  plays 
of  criminal  and  crofs- queflion  ;  and  above  all,  I  invent- 
ed the  wit  of  paying  toll  at  bridges.  In  fhort,  kdies 
and  gentlemen,  take  me  all  in  all,  I  am  a  downright 
curious  fellow. 


Howard  and  Lester. 

A  Dialogue  on  Learning  and  Usefulness. 

jj  T     ^^  ^^  much  like  a  fiddle  :  every  man  plays 

i^  J   fuch  a  tune  as  fuits  him. 

Lejl.  The  more  like  a  fiddle,  the  better  I  like  it. 
Any  thing  that  makes  a  merry  noife  fuits  me  ;  and  the 
man  that  does  not  fet  his  hours  to  mufic,  has  a  dull 
time  on't. 

Hoiv,  But,  Lefter,  are  there  no  ferious  duties  in  life  ? 
Ought  we  not  to  improve  our  minds,  and  to  prepare 
for  ufefulnefs  t 

Left,  Why,  in  the  prefent  day,  a  mans  preparing 
himfelf  for  ufefulnefs,  is  like  carrying  coals  to  New- 
Caftle.     Our  country  is  full  of  ufeful  men  }  ten,  at 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  73 

leaft,  to  where  one  is  wanted,  and  all  of  them  ten  times 
as  \'eady  to  ferve  the  public,  as  the  public  is  to  be  ferv- 
ed.  If  every  man  fliould  go  to  Congrefs  that's  fit  for 
it,  the  federal  city  would  hardly  hold  them. 

How.  You  mean,  if  all  who  think  themfelves  fit 
for  it. 

Lefl.     No  ;  I  meant  as  I  faid. 

H01U.  Then  what  do  you  think  fits  a  man  for  Con- 
grefs ? 

LeJ}.     Why  he  muft  be  flippant  and  bold. 

H01U.  What  good  will  that  do  him,  if  he  Is  with- 
out knowledge  ? 

Lefl,     O  !   he  muft  have  knowledge  to  be  fure. 

Ho-iu.  Well,  muft  he  not  be  a  man  in  whom  the 
people  can  truft  ?  Muft  he  not  underftand  politics  ? 
and  muft  he  not  be  able  and  willing  to  ferve  his  coun- 
try ? 

Left.     I  agree  to  all  that. 

How.  Then  you  fuppofe  that  the  federal  city  could 
hardly  hold  all  our  men  who  unite  eloquence  with 
confidence,  knowledge  with  integrity,  and  policy  with 
patriotifm.  I  rear  that  a  counting  houfe  would  give 
them  full  accommodation. 

Lefl.  I  don't  go  fo  deep  into  thefe  matters  :  but 
this  is  certain,  that  when  the  ele<5lion  comes,  more  than 
enough  are  willing  to  go. 

How.  That,  iny  friend,  only  proves  that  more  than 
enough  are  ignorant  of  themfelves  :  but  are  there  no 
other  ways  of  ferving  the  public. 

Lefl.  Yes  •,  one  may  preach,  if  he  will  do  It  for  lit- 
tle or  nothing.  He  may  practice  law,  if  he  can  get 
any  body  to  employ  him  ;  or  he  may  be  a  Dodlor  or 
an  Inftrudlor  j  but  I  tell  you  the  country  is  crowded 
with  learned  men  begging  bufinefs. 

How.  Then  you  intend  to  prepare  yourfelf  for  the 
Ignorant  herd,  fo  that  you  may  not  be  crowded. 

Lefl.  I  have  ferious  thoughts  of  it.  You  may  take 
your  own  way,  but  I'll  never  wear  out  a  fine  pair  of 
eyes  in  preparing  myfelf  for  ufefulnefs,  till  this  fame 
G 


74  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

public  will  give  me  a  bond  to  employ  me  when  I  ai 
ready  to  ferve  them.  Till  fuch  a  bond  is  figned,  fealedj 
and  delivered,  I  fliall  fet  my  hours  to  the  tune  of 
**  Jack's  alive."  To-day's  the  fhip  I  fail  in,  and  that 
will  carry  the  flag,  in  fpite  of  the  combined  powers  of 
yefterdays  and  to-morrows. 

Hoiu.  Well,  Lefter,  you  can  take  your  choice.  I 
fliall  fet  my  hours  to  a  more  ferious  tune.  I  afk  no 
bond  of  the  public.  If  my  mind  is  well  furnifhed  with 
knowledge,  and  that  fame  generous  public,  which  has 
fo  uniformly  called  to  her  fervice  the  difcerning,  fhould 
refiife  my  fervices,  ftill  I  fhall  poflefs  a  treafure,  which, 
after  a  few  years  of  diflipation,  you  would  give  the 
world  to  purchafe,  THE  RECOLLECTION  OF  TIME 
WELL  SPENT. 


Christ's  Crucifixion. 

■* l^T^^  darknefs  fell 

J^^    On  all  the  region  round  ;  the  fhrouded  full 
From  the  impen'tent  earth  withdrew  his  light  : 
I  thirft,  the  Saviour  cry'd  •,  and  hfting  up 
His  eyes  in  agony.  My  God,  my  God  1 
Ah  !  why  haft  thou  forfaken  me  .^  exclaim'd. 

Yet  deem  him  not  forfaken  of  his  God ! 
Beware  that  error.     'Twas  the  mortal  part 
Of  his  compounded  nature,  breathing  forth 
Its  laft  fad  agony,  that  fo  complain'd  -, 
Doubt  not  that  vail  of  forrow  was  withdrawn, 
And  heav'nly  comfort  to  his  foul  vouchfaf'd. 
Ere  thus  he  cry'd,  Father  !  into  thy  hands 
My  fpirit  I  commend.     Then  bow'd  his  head 
And  died.     Now  Gabriel  and  his  heav'nly  choir 
Of  minift'ring  angels  hov'ring  o'er  the  crofs 
Receiv'd  his  fpirit,  at  length  from  mortal  pangs 
And  flefhy  pris'n  fet  free,  and  bore  it  thence 
Upon  their  wings  rejoicing.     Then  behold 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


/5 


A  prodigy,  that  to  the  world  announc'd 
A  new  religion  and  difTolv'd  the  old  : 
The  temple's  facred  vail  was  rent  in  twain 
From  top  to  bottom,  'midft  th'  attefting  ihocks 
Of  earthquake  and  the  rending  up  of  graves. 
Now  thofe  myfterious  fymbols,  heretofore 
Curtained  from  vulgar  eyes,  and  liolieft  deem'd 
Of  holies,  were  difplay'd  to  public  view  : 
The  mercy-feat,  with  its  cherubic  wings 
O'erfhadow'd,  and  the  golden  ark  beneath 
Covering  the  teftimony,  novr  through  the  rent 
Of  that  dilTever'd  vdl  firfi:  faw  the  light  ; 
A  world  redeem'd  had  nov/  no  farther  need 
Of  types  and  emblems,  dimly  fhadowing  forth 
An  angry  Deity  withdrawn  from  fight 
And  canopy'd  in  clouds.     Him,  face  to  face, 
Now  in  full  light  reveal'd,  the  dying  breath 
Of  his  dear  Son  appeas'd  and  purchas'd  peace 
And  reconcilement  for  offending  man. 

Thus  the  partition-wall,  by  Mofes  built. 
By  Chrift  was  levell'd,  and  the  Gentile  world 
Enter'd  the  breach,  by  their  great  Captain  led 
Up  to  the  throne  of  grace,  opening  himfelf 
Through  his  own  flefh  a  new  and  living  way. 
Then  were  the  oracles  of  God  made  known 
To  all  the  nations,  fprinkled  by  the  blood 
Of  Jefus,  and  baptiz'd  into  his  death  ; 
So  was  the  birthright  of  the  elder  born. 
Heirs  of  the  promife,  forfeited  ;  whilft  they, 
Whom  fin  had  erft  in  bondage  held,  made  free 
From  lin,  and  fervants  of  the  living  God, 
Now  galn'd  the  gift  of  God,  eternal  life. 

Soon  as  thofe  ligns  and  prodigies  were  feen 
Of  thofe  who  watch'd  the  crofs,  conviction  fmote 
Their  fear-ftruck  hearts.     The  fun,  at  noon  day  dark  ; 
The  earth  convuliive  underneath  their  feet. 
And  the  firm  rocks,  in  Ihiver'd  fragments  rent, 
Rous'd  them  at  once  to  tremble  and  believe. 
Then  was  our  Lord  by  heathen  lips  confefs'd. 


76  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR- 

When  the  centurion  cryM,  In  very  truth 
This  righteous  Perfon  was  the  Son  of  God  ; 
The  reft,  in  heart  aflenting,  ftood  abafh'd. 
Watching  in  iilcnce  the  tremendous  fcene. 

The  recollection  of  his  gracious  adls, 
His  dying  prayVs  and  their  awn  impious  taunts 
Now  rofe  in  fad  review  ;  too  late  they  v/ifli'd 
The  deed  undone,  and  fighing  fmote  their  breafts. 
Straight  from  God's  prefence  went  that  angel  forth. 
Whole  trumpet  iliall  call  up  the  fleeping  dead 
At  the  laft  day,  and  bade  the  faints  a  rife 
And  come  on  earth  to  hail  this  promis'd  hour. 
The  day-fpring  of  falvation.     Forth  they  came 
From  their  dark  tenements,  their  Ihadowy  forms 
Made  vilible  as  in  their  flefhy  ftate. 
And  through  the  holy  city  here  and  there 
Frequent  they  gleam'd,  by  night,  by  day,  with  fear 
And  wonder  feen  of  many  :  holy  feers, 
Prophets  and  martys  from  the  grave  fet  free, 
And  the  lirft  fruits  of  the  redeemed  dead. 

They,  who  with  Chrift  transiigur'd  on  the  mount 
V/ere  feen  of  his  difciples  in  a  cloud 
Of  dazzling  glory,  now,  in  form  diftin^l:. 
Mingling  amidil  the  public  haunts  of  men. 
Struck  terror  to  all  hearts  :  Ezekiel  there. 
The  captive  feer,  to  whom  on  Chebar's  banks 
The  heavens  were  open'd  and  the  fatal  roll 
Held  forth,  with  dire  denunciations  fiU'd, 
Of  lamentation,  mourning  and  of  woe. 
Now  falling  faft  on  Ifrael's  wretched  race  : 
He  too  was  there,  Hilki all's  holy  fon, 
With  loins  clofe  girt,  and  glowing  lips  of  fire 
Ey  God's  own  finger  touch'd  :  there  might  be  feen 
The  youthful  prophet,  Beltefhazzar  nam'd 
Of  the  Chaldees^  interpreter  of  dreams. 
Knowledge  of  God  befiow'd,  in  vifions  fkill'd. 
And  fair  and  learn'd,  and  wife  :  the  Baptift  here. 
Girt  i?i  his  hairy  mantle  frowning  flalk'd. 
And  pointing  to  his  ghaitly  wound,  exclaim'd. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  77 

Ye  vipers  !    whom  my  warning  could  not  move 

Timely  to  flee  from  the  impending  wrath 

Now  fallen  on  your  heads  ;   whom  I  indeed 

With  water,  Chriil  hath  now  with  fire  baptized  : 

Barren  ye  were  of  fruits,   which  I  prefcrib'd 

Meet  for  repentance,  and  behold  !   the  axe 

Is  laid  to  the  unprofitable  root 

Of  every  faplefs  tree,  hewn  down,  condemn'd 

And  call  into  the  fire.     Lo  !   thefe  are  thtry, 

Thefe  fhadowy  forms  now  floating  in  your  fight, 

Thefe  are  the  harbingers  of  ancient  days, 

Who  witnefs'd  the  Meffias,  and  announc'd 

His  coming  upon  earth.     Mark  with  what  fcorn 

Silent  they  pafs  you  by  :  them  had  ye  heard. 

Them  had  ye  noted  with  a  patient  mind, 

Ye  had  not  crucified  the  Lord  of  Life  : 

He  of  thefe  ftones  to  Abraham  fhall  raife  up 

Children,  than  you  more  worthy  of  his  i\ock  9 

And  now  his  winnowing  fan  is  in  his  hand. 

With  which  he'll  purge  his  floor,  and  h<.ving  {lor'd 

The  precious  grain  in  garners,  will  confume 

With  fire  unquenchable  the  refufe  chatF. 


The  Wonders  of  Nature. 

HOW  mighty  !  how  majeftic  !  and  how  myfteri- 
ous  are  nature's  works  !  When  the  air  is  calm, 
where  fleep  the  ftormy  winds  ?  In  what  chambers  are 
they  repofed,  or  in  what  dungeons  confined  ?  But 
when  He,  "  who  holds  rhem  in  his  fill,"  is  pleafed 
to  awaken  their  rage,  and  throw  open  their  priion 
doors,  then,  with  irrefilHbie  impetuofity,  they  rufli 
forth,  fcattering  dread,  and  menacing  deltruc^tion. 

The  atmofphere  is  hurled  into  the  molt  tun. ultuous 
confufion.  The  serial  torrent  burfts  its  way  over  nioun- 
tains,  feas  and  continents.  Ai:  thing!:  feel  the  dread- 
ful fhock.  All  thini];s  trcinb'e  h.f(^re  rh.:  furious  b'aft. 
The  foreft,  vexed  and  torn,  ^roaus  under  the  koujrge* 
G  z 


78  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Her  fturdy  fons  are  ftrained  to  the  very  root,  and  al- 
moft  fweep  the  foil  they  were  wont  to  fliade.  The 
ftubborn  oak,  that  difdains  to  bend,  is  dallied  headlong 
to  the  ground  :  and,  with  fliattered  arms,  with  prof^ 
trate  trunk,  blocks  up  the  road.  While  the  flexile 
reed,  that  fprings  up  in  the  marfh,  yielding  to  the  gufV, 
(as  the  meek  and  pliant  temper,  to  injuries,  or  the  re* 
ligned  and  patient  fpirit,  to  misfortunes)  eludes  the 
force  of  the  florin,  and  furvives  amidfl  the  wide-fpead 
havoc. 

For  a  moment,  the  turbulent  and  outrageous  fky 
fcems  to  be  afTuaged  ;  but  it  intermits  its  warmth,  only 
to  increafe  its  ilrength.  Soon  the  founding  fquadrons 
of  the  air  return  to  the  attack,  and  renew  their  ravages 
with  redoubled  fury.  The  flately  dome  rocks  amidft 
the  wheeling  clouds.  The  impregnable  tower  totters 
OH  its  baiiSj  and  threatens  to  overwhelm  whom  it  was 
intended  to  protefi:.  The  ragged  rocks  are  rent  in 
pieces  ;  and  even  the  hills,  the  perpetual  hills,  on  their 
deep  foundations  are  fcarcely  fecure.  Where  now  is 
the  place  of  fafety  ?  when  the  city  reels,  and  houfes 
become  heaps  !  Sleep  affrighted  flies.  Diveriion  is 
turned  into  horror.  All  is  uproar  in  the  element  •,  all 
is  confternation  among  mortals  :  and  nothing  but  one 
v^?ide  fcene  of  rueful  devaflation  through  the  land. 

The  ocean  fwells  with  tremendous  commotions.  The 
ponderous  waves  are  heaved  from  their  capacious  bed, 
and  almoft  lay  bare  the  unfathomable  deep.  Flung  in- 
to the  mofb  rapid  agitation,  they  fweep  over  the  rocks  ^ 
they  lafh  the  lofty  cliffs,  and  tofs  themfelves  into  the 
clouds.  Navies  are  rent  from  their  anchors  j  and,  with 
all  their  enormous  load,  are  whirled  fwift  as  an  arrow, 
wild  as  as  the  winds,  along  the  vaft  abyfs.  Now  they 
climb  the  rolling  mountain  ;  they  plough  the  frightful 
ridge  •,  and  feem  to  fkim  the  fkies.  Anon  they  plunge 
hito  the  opening  gulf ;  they  lofe  the  fight  of  day  j 
and  are  loft  themfelves  to  every  eye. 

How  vain  is  the  pilot's  art  I  how  impotent  the  marl-- 
ncr's  fb-ength !  « They  reel  to  and  fro,  and  ftaggcr 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  79 

like  a  drunken  man."  Defpair  is  in  every  face,  and 
death  fits  threatening  on  every  furge.  But  when  Om- 
nipotence pleafes  to  command,  the  ftorm  is  hufhed  to 
iilence  *,  the  lightnings  lay  afidc  their  fiery  bolts,  and 
the  billows  ceafe  to  roll. 


Dialogue  on  Physiognomy. 

Enter  Frank  and  Henry. 

j^  J  TT  appears  rtrange  to  me  that  people  can  be 
^^"  *  J_  fo  impofed  upon.  There  is  no  difficulty  in 
judging  folks  by  their  looks.  I  profefs  to  know  as 
much  of  a  man  at  the  firft  view,  as  by  half  a  dozen 
years  acquaintance. 

Henry.  Pray  how  is  that  done  .''  I  fhould  vvifli  to 
learn  fuch  an  art. 

Fr.   Did  you  never  read  Lavater  on  Phyfiognomy  ? 

Hen.  No.  What  do  you  mean  by  fuch  a  hard  word? 

Fr.  Phyfiognomy  means  a  knowledge  of  men's 
hearts,  thoughts,  and  chara<Sl:ers,  by  their  looks.  For 
inftance,  if  you  fee  a  man,  with  a  forehead  jutting  over 
his  eyes,  like  a  piazza,  with  a  pair  of  eyebrows,  heavy 
like  the  cornice  of  a  houfe ;  with  full  eyes,  and  a  Ro- 
man nofe,  depend  on  it  he  is  a  great  fcholar,  and  an 
honeft  man. 

Hen.  It  feems  to  me  I  fhould  rather  go  below  his 
nofe  to  difcover  his  fcholarfhip. 

Fr.  By  no  means  :  if  you  look  for  beauty,  you  may 
defcend  to  the  mouth  and  chin ;  otherwife  never  go 
below  the  region  of  the  brain. 

Enter  George. 

Geor.  Well,  I  have  been  to  fee  the  man  hanged. 
And  he  is  gone  to  the  other  world,  with  juft  fuch  a 
great  forehead  and  Roman  nofe,  as  you  have  always 
been  praifing. 

Fr.  Remember,  George,  all  figns  fail  in  dry 
weather. 

<jton    Now,  be  honeft,  Frank,  and  own  that  there 


86  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

is  nothing  in  all  this  trumpery  of  yours.  The  only 
way  to  know  men  is  by  their  actions.  If  a  man  com- 
mit burglary,  think  you  a  Roman  nofe  ought  to  fave 
him  from  punifhment  ? 

Fr.     I  don't  carry   my   notions  fo  far  as  that  j  but 
it  is  certain  that  all  faces  in  the  world  are  different 
and  equally  true,  that  each  has  fome   marks   about  it, 
by  which  one  can  difcovcr  the  temper  and  character 
of  the  perfon. 

Enter  Peter. 

Peter.     [To  Frank. ~\  Sir,  I  have  heard  of  your  fame 
from  Dan  to  Beerfhcba;  that  you  can  know  a  man  by 
his  face,  and  can  tell  his  thoughts  by  his  looks.    Hear-' 
ing  this,  I  have  vifited  you  without  the  ceremony  of  J 
an  introduction. 

Fr.  Why,  indeed,  I  do  profefs  fomething  in  that 
way. 

Pet.  By  that  forehead,  nofe,  and  thofe  eyes  of 
yours,  one  might  be  fure  of  an  acute,  penetrating 
mind. 

Fr.  I  fee  that  you  are  not  ignorant  of  phyfiognc- 
Hiy. 

Pet.  I  am  not  -,  but  ftill  I  am  fo  far  from  being  an 
adept  in  the  art,  that,  unlefs  the  features  are  very  re- 
markable, I  cannot  determine  with  certainty.  But 
yours  is  the  moft  liriking  face  I  ever  faw.  There  is  a 
certain  firmnefs  in  the  lines,  which  lead  from  the  outer 
irerge  to  the  centre  of  the  apple  of  your  eye,  which 
denotes  great  forecaft,  deep  thought,  bright  invention, 
and  a  genius  for  great  purpofes. 

Fr.  You  are  a  perfe(51:  mail^er  of  the  art.  And  to 
ihow  you  that  I  know  fomething  of  it,  permit  me  to 
obferve,  that  the  form  of  your  face  denotes  franknefs, 
truth,  and  honefty.  Your  heart  is  a  flranger  to  guile, 
your  lips,  to  deceit,  and  your  hands,  to  fraud. 

Pet.  I  muft  confefs  that  you  have  hit  upon  my  true 
character-,  thr^uj^h  a  diffrrent  one  from  what  I  hare 
fultained  in  the  view  of  the  world. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  8i 

Fr.  [To  Henry  and  George^]  Now  fee  two  ftrong 
examples  of  the  truth  of  phyfiognomy.  \_While  he  is 
fpeaking  this,  Peter  takes  out  his  pocket-book,  and  makes  off 
with  himfelf.']  Now,  can  you  conceive,  that  without 
this  knowledge,  I  could  fathom  tL.  character  of  a  to- 
tal ftranger  ? 

Hen.  Pray  tell  us  by  what  marks  you  difcovered 
that  in  his  heart  and  lips  was  no  guile,  and  in  his 
hands,  no  fraud  ? 

Fr.  Aye,  leave  that  to  me  ;  we  are  not  to  reveal 
our  fecrets.  But  I  will  fhow  you  a  face  and  charafler, 
which  exactly  fuits  him.  [Feels  for  his  pocket-book  in 
both  pockets,  looks  ivildly  and  concerned.'] 

Geor.  [Tauntivgly.']  Aye,  *^in  his  heart  is  no 
guile,  in  his  lips  no  deceit,  and  in  his  hands  nc  fraud  ! 
Now  we  fee  a  ftrong  example  of  the  power  of  phyfi- 
ognomy !" 

Fr.  He  is  a  wretch  !  a  traitor  ?gainfl:  every  good 
fign  !  ril  purfue  him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  [Of- 
fers to  go.] 

Hen.  Stop  a  moment.  His  fine  honeft  face  is  far 
enough  before  this  time.  You  have  not  yet  difcovered 
the  worft  injury  he  has  done  you. 

Fr.  What's  that  ?  I  had  no  watch  or  money  for 
him  to  fteal. 

Hen.  By  his  deceitful  lips,  he  has  robbed  you  of 
any  juft  conception  of  yourfeif ;  he  has  betrayed  you 
into  a  foolifh  belief  that  you  are  pofiefied  of  moft  ex- 
traordinary genius  and  talents.  Whereas,  feparate 
from  the  idle  whim  about  phyfiognomy,  you  have  had 
no  more  pretence  to  genius  or  learning  than  a  common 
fchool-boy.  Learn  henceforth  to  eftimate  men's  hands 
by  their  deeds,  their  lips,  by  their  words,  and  their 
hearts,  by  their  lives. 


8z  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Oration  delivered  at  Paris  by  Citizen^ 
Carnot,  President  of  the  Executive  Di- 
rectory, AT  THE  Festival  of  Gratitude 
AND  Victory,  celebrated  it  the  Champ-de- 
Mars,  May  29,  1 796. 

IT  is  at  the  moment  when  nature  Is  renovated,  when 
the  earth,  adorned  with  flowers  and  drelTed  in  green, 
promifes  new  harvefls ;  when  ail  beings  proclaim  in 
their  own  language,  the  beneficent  Intelligence  which 
renovates  the  unlverfe,  that  the  French  people  aflem- 
ble,  on  this  great  feflival,  to  render  a  diftinguifhed  hom- 
age to  thofe  talents  and  virtues  of  the  friends  of  the 
country  and  humanity.  What  day  can  better  unite 
all  hearts  !  What  citizen,  vrhat  man  can  be  a  ftranger 
to  the  influence  of  gratitude  !  We  exifl  only  through 
an  uninterrupted  courfe  of  beneficence,  and  our  life  is 
but  a  continual  exchange  of  fervices. 

As  foon  as  born,  our  eyes,  fixed  on  the  heavens, 
appear  already  to  acknowledge  a  primary  Benefactor. 
Weak,  without  fupport,  the  love  of  our  parents  watches 
over  our  infancy,  and  provides  for  wants  continually 
renewed.  They  diredl  our  firft  fteps  j  their  patient 
folicitude  afilfts  in  developing  our  organs  j  we  receive 
from  them  our  firfi:  ideas  of  what  we  are  ourfelves  and 
of  furrounding  obje<Sls.  Additional  care  models  our 
hearts  to  affection,  our  minds  to  knowledge,  and  our 
bodies  to  ufeful  labour.  It  is  for  our  happinefs,  that 
the  wife  have  reflected  on  the  duties  of  man  ;  that  the 
learned  have  diven  into  the  fecrets  of  nature ;  that 
the  magiftrate  watches,  and  that  the  legiflator  prepares 
in  deliberation  protecting  laws. 

Soon  we  are  enabled  to  be  ufeful.  Good  children, 
we  fi:rew  flowers  over  the  age  of  our  parents,  and  their 
trembling  voice  blefl^es  us  in  their  lafl:  moments.  Be- 
come parents  in  our  turn,  we  prepare,  in  the  education 
of  our  children,  the  felicity  of  our  declining  years ; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  83 

and  we  thus  continue  in  a  new  generation  the  chain  of 
benevolence  and  gratitude.  Senfibility  is  not  reftridt- 
ed  within  the  family  circle ;  the  indigent  is  fearched 
for  under  the  thatch;  fuccours  and  confolation  are 
laviflied ;  and  the  donor,  at  firft  paid  for  the  good  ac- 
tion by  the  pleafure  of  having  performed  it,  is  doubly 
rewarded  by  the  gratitude  of  the  object.  Benevolence ! 
how  happy  are  thy  votaries,  and  how  much  to  be  piti- 
ed, the  foul  that  knows  thee  not ! 

He  who  is  a  good  fon  and  a  good  father  is  alfo  a 
good  citizen.  He  loves  his  country,  renders  with 
alacrity  the  tribute  of  fervices  ^  he  delights  in  return- 
ing to  his  brothers  the  proteiStion  he  has  received  from 
them.  Either  magiftrate  or  warrior,  manufacturer  or 
farmer  ;  in  the  temple  of  the  arts  ;  in  the  Senate  ;  in 
the  fields  of  g^ory,  or  the  workfliops  of  induftry,  he 
ihows  himfelf  ambitious  of  contributing  towards  the 
profperity  of  his  country,  and  to  deferve  one  day  its 
gratitude.  For  there  is  a  national  gratitude  for  indi- 
viduals. At  this  moment  a  people  are  all  aflembled  to 
exprefs  their  gratitude  to  the  virtuous  citizens  who 
have  deferved  it.  How  agreeable  is  the  tafk  !  How  we 
delight  in  paying  you  that  homage  ;  you  to  whom  the 
country  owes  its  fafety,  its  glory,  and  the  foundation 
of  its  profperity  ! 

You,  to  whom  France  owes  its  political  regenera- 
tion ;  courageous  philofophers,  whofe  writings  have 
planted  the  feeds  of  the  revolution,  corroded  the  fet- 
ters of  flavery,  and  blunted  by  degrees  the  ravings  of 
fanaticifm.  You,  citizens,  whofe  dauntlefs  courage 
efFe£led  this  happy  revolution ;  founded  the  republic, 
and  contended  thefe  feven  years  againft  crime  and  am- 
bition, royalifm  and  anarchy.  You  all,  in  a  word,  who 
labour  to  render  France  happy  and  flourifhing  ;  who 
render  it  illuftrious  by  your  t:\lents,  and  enrich  it  by 
your  difcoveries  -,  receive  the  folemn  teftimony  of  na- 
tional gratitude. 

Receive  that  teftimony  particularly,  republican  ar- 
mies J  you,  whofe  glory  and  fuccefles  are  frefh  in  the 


S4  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

recollection  of  all.  It  is  you  who  have  defended  us 
againlt  ten  combined  kings ;  who  have  driven  them 
from  our  territory  5  have  transferred  to  their  dominions 
the  fcourge  of  war.  You  have  not  only  conquered  1 
men  ;  you  have  overcome  the  obftacles  thrown  in  your  ^i 
way  by  nature.  You  have  triumphed  over  fatigue, 
hunger,  and  winter.  What  a  fpedlacle  for  the  people ! 
what  a  dreadful  leiTcn  to  the  enemies  of  liberty  ! 

A  new-born  republic  arms  its  children  to  defend  its 
independence  5  nothing  can  reftrain  their  impetuofi- 
ty  5  traverfing  rivers,  carrying  entrenchments,  climbing 
rocks.  Here,  after  a  feries  of  victories,  they  puf];ied 
back  our  limits  to  thofe  barriers  that  nature  intended 
for  us,  and  purfuing  over  ice  the  remains  of  three  ar- 
mies, transformed'  an  opprefled  and  hoftile  nation  into 
a  free  and  allied  people.  There  they  fly  to  extermi- 
nate the  hordes  of  traitors  and  villains,  fubfidized  by 
England ;  pnnifli  their  thieves,  and  reftore  to  the  re- 
public brorhers  too  long  milled.  Here,  furmounting 
the  Pyrenees,  and  precipitating  themfelves  from  their 
fummit ;  overthrowing  whatever  oppofes  their  prog- 
refs,  and  checked  only  by  an  honorable  peace  ;  there 
afcending  the  Alps  and  Appenines,  they  fly  acrofs  the 
Po  and  Adige. 

The  ardor  of  the  foldier  is  feconded  by  the  genius 
and  boldnefs  of  the  chiefs.  They  plan  with  fcience,- 
and  execute  with  energy  ;  now  difplaying  their  forces 
with  calmnefs  ;  then  courting  danger  at  the  head  of  > 
their  brothers  in  arms.  Oh  that  I  could  here  difplay 
the  immenfe  and  glorious  pidure  of  their  vi<fl:ories  ! 
that  I  could  name  our  mofl  intrepid  defenders  !  What 
a  crowd  of  iublime  images  and  beloved  names  prefs  up- 
on my  recolle(Sl:ion  !  Immortal  warriors,  poflierity  will 
not  believe  the  multitude  of  your  triumphs  ;  but  to  us 
hifl-ory  lofes  all  its  improbabilities. 

But  do  we  not  fee,  even  on  this  foot,  a  portion  of 
thofe  brave  defenders  ?  Victors  over  the  exterior  en- 
emies of  the  fl:ate,  they  have  come  10  reprefs  our  in- 
ternal enemies  ;  and  preferve  at  home  the  republic 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  85 

which  they  have  caufed  to  be  refpe^led  abroad.  Do 
we  not  alfo  fee  thofe  venerable  warriors  who  have 
grown  grey  in  the  fervice ;  thofe  whom  honorable 
wounds  have  obliged  to  feek  premature  repofe,  and 
whofe  afylum  is  in  light  ?  With  what  pleafure  our 
eyes  feed  on  this  interefting  reunion.  With  what 
agreeable  emotions  we  contemplate  thofe  vi(Sl:orious 
brows ! 

Heroes  who  have  perifhed  for  liberty,  why  does  there 
remain  to  us  nothing  but  a  recollecStion  of  your  fervices  ? 
You  will,  however,  live  forever  in  our  hearts ;  your 
children  will  be  dear  to  us  ;  the  republic  will  repay  to 
them  the  debt  they  owe  to  you ;  and  we  difcharge 
here  the  fir  ft,  by  proclaiming  your  glory  and  our  grat- 
itude. Republican  armies,  reprefented  here,  by  war- 
riors from  your  ranks ;  invincible  phalanxes,  whofe 
trophies  I  obferve  on  all  iides,  whole  frelli  fuccelTes 
I  forefee,  come  forward  and  receive  the  triumphal 
crowns  which  the  French  people  command  me  to  at- 
tach to  your  colours. 


Address  of  Mr.  Adet,  French  Ambassa- 

DOR,  ON  PRESENTING  THE  CoLOURS  OF  FrANCE  TO 

THE  United  States,  1796. 

Mr.  President, 

I  COME  to  acquit  myfelf  of  a  duty  very  dear  to 
my  heart.  I  come  to  depofit  in  your  hands,  and 
in  the  midft  of  a  people  juftly  renowned  for  their  cour- 
age, and  their  love  of  liberty,  the  fymbol  of  the  tri- 
umph and  of  the  enfranchifement  of  my  nation. 

When  Ihe  broke  her  chains ;  when  fhe  proclaimed 
the  imprefcriptible  rights  of  man  ;  when,  in  a  terrible 
war,  Ihe  fealed  with  her  blood  the  covenant  made  with 
liberty,  her  own  happinefs  was  not  alone  the  objedt  of 
her  glorious  efforts ;  her  views  extended  alfo  to  all 
free  people  j  fhe  faw  their  interefts  blended  with  her 
H 


86  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

own,  and  doubly  rejoiced  in  her  viiftories,  which,  in 
afluring  to  her  the  enjoyments  of  her  rights,  became  to 
them  new  guarantees  of  their  independence. 

Thefe  fentiments,  which  animated  the  French  na- 
tion, from  the  dawn  of  their  revolution,  have  acquired 
new  ftrength  fince  the  foundation  of  the  republic. 
France,  at  that  time,  by  the  form  of  its  government,^ 
affimilated  to,  or  rather  identified  with  free  people,  faw 
in  them  only  friends  and  brothers.  Long  accuftomed  j 
to  regard  the  American  people  as  their  moft  faithful 
allies,  fhe  has  fought  to  draw  clofer  the  ties  already 
formed  in  the  fields  of  America,  under  the  aufpices  of 
Yi<5lory  over  the  ruins  of  tyranny. 

The  National  Convention,  the  organs  of  the  will  of 
the  French  nation,  have  more  than  once  exprefied 
their  fentiments  to  the  American  people  ;  but  above  all, 
thefe  burft  forth  on  that  auguft  day,  when  the  Minifter 
of  the  United  States  prefented  to  the  National  Repre- 
fentation,  the  colours  of  his  country,  defiring  never  to 
lofe  recollections  as  dear  to  Frenchmen  as  they  muft  be 
to  Americans.  The  Convention  ordered  that  thefe 
colours  lliould  be  placed  in  the  hall  of  their  fittings. 
They  had  experienced  fenfations  too  agreeable  not  to 
caufe  them  to  be  partaken  of  by  their  allies,  and  de- 
creed that  to  them  the  national  colours  fhould  be  pre- 
fented. 

Mr.  Prefident,  I  do  not  doubt  their  expec^lations 
will  be  fulfilled ;  and  I  am  convinced,  that  every  citi- 
zen will  receive,  with  a  pleafing  emotion,  this  flag, 
elfewhere  the  terror  of  the  enemies  of  liberty ;  here 
the  certain  pledge  of  faithful  friendfhip;  cfpecially 
when  they  recolle£l  that  it  guides  to  combat,  men  who 
have  fhared  their  toils,  and  who  were  prepared  for  fib- 
erty,  by  aiding  them  to  ac(juire  their  own. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  87 


President  Washington's  Answer. 

BORN,  Sir,  in  a  land  of  liberty ;  having  early 
learned  its  value ;  having  engaged  in  a  perilous 
conflict  to  defend  it ;  having,  in  a  word,  devoted  the 
beft  years  of  my  life  to  fecure  it  a  permanent  eftablifh- 
ment  in  my  own  country ;  my  anxious  recollections, 
my  fympathetic  feelings,  and  my  beft  wiflies  are  irre- 
fiftibly  excited,  whenfoever,  in  any  country,  I  fee  an 
oppreiled  nation  unfurl  the  banners  of  freedom.  But 
above  all,  the  events  of  the  French  revolution  have 
produced  the  dcepeft  folicitude,  as  well  as  the  higheft 
admiration.  To  call  your  nation  brave,  were  to  pro- 
nounce but  common  praife.  WONDERFUL  PEO- 
PLE !  ages  to  come  will  read  with  aftonifhment  the 
hiftory  of  your  brilliant  exploits. 

I  rejoice  that  the  period  of  your  tolls  and  of  your 
immenfe  facrifices  is  approaching.  I  rejoice  that  the 
interefting  revolutionary  movements  of  fo  many  years 
have  ifTued  in  the  formation  of  a  conftitution  dcligned 
to  give  permanency  to  the  great  objedt  for  which  you 
have  contended.  I  rejoice  that  liberty,  which  you 
have  fo  long  embraced  with  enthufiafm ;  liberty,  of 
which  you  have  been  the  invincible  defenders,  now 
finds  an  afylum  In  the  bofom  of  a  regularly  organized 
government :  a  government,  which,  being  formed  to 
fecure  the  happinefs  of  the  French  people,  correfponds 
with  the  ardent  wiflies  of  my  heart,  while  it  gratifies 
the  pride  of  every  citizen  of  the  United  States,  by  its 
refemblance  of  their  own.  On  thefe  glorious  events 
accept.  Sir,  my  fincere  congratulations. 

In  delivering  to  you  thefe  fentiments,  I  exprefs  not 
my  own  feelings  only,  but  thofe  of  my  fellow-citizens, 
in  relation  to  the  commencement,  the  progrefs,  and  the 
ifTue  of  the  French  revolution ;  and  they  will  cordi- 
ally join  with  me  in  pureft  wilhes  to  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing, that  the  citizens  of  our  fifter  republic,  our  mag- 
nanimous allies,  may  foon  enjoy,  iij  peace,  that  liberty, 


88       '    THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

which  they  have  purchafed  at  fo  great  a  price,  and  at 
the  happinefs  which  liberty  can  bellow. 

I  receive,  Sir,  with  lively  feniibility,  the  fymbol  o 
the  triumphs  and  of  the  enfranchifements  of  your  na 
tion,  the  colours  of  France,  which  you  have  now  pre 
fented  to  the  United  States.  The  tranfaflion  will  b 
announced  to  Congrefs  ;  and  the  colours  will  be  depot 
ited  with  thofe  archives  of  the  United  States,  whicl 
are  at  once  the  evidences  and  the  memorials  of  their^ 
freedom  and  independence.  May  thcfe  be  perpetual ; 
and  may  the  friendfliip  of  the  two  republics  be  com- 
menfurate  with  their  exiftence. 


The  oppressive  Landlord. 

Enter  Don  Philip  and  Wife. 

n      P/.7V,    TTIT^L"^>  '"y  ^^^'*'  ^  ^^^^  warned  all 
UGH  rhiup.     YY   ^^^  families  out  of  my  long  range 

of  buildings,  and  ordered  them  to  pay  double  the  rent 
they  have  done,  for  every  day  they  remain.  From 
every  new  tenant  I  am  determined  to  have  three  times 
the  fum.  The  prefent  rent  will  never  do  in  thefe  times. 
Our  children  will  become  beggars  at  this  rate  ;  and  you- 
and  I  fliall  have  to  betake  ourfelves  to  hand  labour,  like" 
the  common  herd,  to  earn  our  daily  bread. 

Wife.  But  I  fear  that  fome  of  our  tenants  are  too 
poor  to  endure  a  rent,  double  to  what  they  now  pay  j 
and  I  am  certain  it  will  be  impoflible  for  them  all  to 
remove,  on  account  of  the  fcarcity  of  houfes  to  be  ob- 
tained. 

Don  P.  That  is  not  my  look-out.  It  is  enough  for 
me  to  attend  to  my  oivn  intereft,  not  theirs. 

Wife.     But  you  will  exercife  a  little  lenity  towards. 
them,  at  this  diftreffing  time.    I  am  perfuaded,  my  dear, 
that  you  will  not  turn  them  into  the  ftreet.     Beiides, 
it  is  thought  by  fome,  that  they  already  pay  a  reafon-  I 
able  rent.  ! 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  89 

Don  P.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  lenity.  Woman, 
would  you  not  have  your  hufband  be  looking  out  againft 
a  rainy  day  ?  What  would  become  of  you,  and  your 
children,  if  I  were  to  fpend  my  time  in  ftudying  /e»ityy 
inftead  of  my  intereji-table  P  I  tell  you,  that  now  is  the 
harvell:  time,  and  I  am  determined  to  thruft  in  the  iio 
kle,  and  reap  my  proportion  of  the  crop,  before  the  fea- 
fon's  over.  The  town  is  crowded  with  foreigners  who 
are  exiled  from  their  homes,  and  neceility  obliges  thenv 
to  pay  whatever  price  is  demanded,  for  a  Iheiter  to 
cover  their  heads. 

JVife.  Would  you  then  profit  by  the  neceffities  and 
misfortunes  of  your  fellow-creatures  ?  Thefe  exiles  are 
entitled  to  our  compaffion,  inftead  of  experiencing  ouc 
oppreilion. 

Don  P.  You  talk  like  a  poor  weak  woman.  Did  I 
not  tell  you  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  other  peo- 
ple's good  or  ill  fortune  ?  It  is  more  than  I  can  do  to 
take  care  of  my  own  dependants.  We  fhould  make 
fine  way  ahead,  if  you  were  at  helm.  I  believe  in  my 
confcience,  that,  if  you  poflefled  the  keys  of  the  ftrong- 
box,  you  would  fquander  away  to  the  full  amount  of 
a  piftareen  a  week  upon  thefe  poor  ftarving  runaways. 
I  have  not  yet  forgotten  how  you  lavifhed  a  whole  gal- 
lon of  cider  upon  thofe  three  miferable  wretches  tha^ 
cleared  out  our  well,  the  day  before  thankfgiving. 
Does  this  look  like  taking  a  prudent  care  of  your  fam- 
ily ?  Pray  how  do  you  read  your  Bible  ?  Has  no& 
Nebuchadnezzar  faid,  that,  "  He,  who  provides  not  for 
his  own  houfehold,  has  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worf^ 
than  an  infidel  ?" 

Wife,  If  you  had  ftudied  your  Bible  as  faithfully 
as  you  have  your  inter efl-tabhy  you  would  not  have 
put  Saint  PauPs  words  into  the  mouth  of  the  king  q£ 
Babylon.  Does  not  the  fame  fcripture  fay,  that  "  H& 
who  opprefTeth  the  poor,  and " 

Don  P.  Hulh,  I  fay  ;  one  of  my  tenants  anproaches* 
Banifh  your  womanifh  feelings  \  and  let  not  your  HJi^ 
.JCuly  tongue  betray  your  weakaefe, 
H  2 


90  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Enter  Tenant. 

Ten,  Sir,  I  come  to  inform  you,  that  I  have  at  laft 
been  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  fhelter  for  my  fam- 
ily, though  an  indifferent  one  *,  and  have  brought  you» 
the  rent  of  your  tenement,  which  I  quitted  with  re- 
luctance yefterday.  \ 

Don  P.  It  is  well  you  are  out ;  for  you  would  havd 
rnet  with  trouble,  if  you  had  remained  three  days  long-^ 
er.  I  had  ordered  my  attorney  to  give  directions  to  am 
officer  to  tumble  all  your  goods  into  the  ftreet,  and  youP 
and  your  children  after  them. 

Ten.     Then  a  good  Providence  has  preferved  us. 

Don  P.  Providence  has  fmiled  upon  me,  I  confefs^ 
in  granting  me  fuch  a  riddance. 

Ten.  I  contend  not  with  an  adverfary  who  is  man- 
tled in  gold.  Will  you  pleafe  to  count  your  money, 
and  give  me  a  difcharge  ? 

Don  P.     ^Counts  the  money."]     Why,  man,  the  fui 
is  deficient ;  I  cannot  receipt  it. 

Ten.     It  is  the  fame,  Sir,  as  I  paid  the  laft  term. 

Don  P.  That  is  very  true  *,  but  did  I  not  double 
the  rent  three  days  ago  ? 

Ten.  You  did,  indeed  ;  but  my  reply  was,  that  I 
was  utterly  unable  to  pay  a  higher  price ;  and  as  the 
time  was  fo  fhort,  I  thought  you  would  not  ftand  for 
trifles. 

Don  P.  Trifles  !  If  you  were  to  receive  it,  I  believe 
you  would  not  call  it  a  trifle  ;  neither  do  L  I  demand 
the  utmoft  farthing. 

Ten.  For  the  fake  of  peace,  though  I  think  your 
demand  unjuft,  I  will  take  your  receipt  for  this,  and 
bring  the  remainder  to-morrow. 

Don  P.  Not  a  cent  will  I  receive  without  the 
whole,  left  by  fome  quibble  of  the  law  I  lofe  the  reft. 

Ten.  Your  avaricious  difpofition  leads  you  to  a6t 
contrary  to  your  own  intereft. 

Don  P.  I  {hall  not  apply  to  you  for  leflbns  of  in- 
ftruCtion.  I  fliall  condnft  my  own  afl^airs  according  to 
my  fovereign  will  and  pieafure.     Let  me  tell  you,.  Sir^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  ^i 

this  impudence  does  not  well  become  a  man  of  your 
circumftances. 

Ten,  "Sir,  your  honored  father  never  ufed  me 
thus."  Alas  I  he  little  thought  in  what  oppreflive 
hands  he  left  his  large  eftate  Could  he  be  permitted 
to  revifit  the  earth,  his  ghoft  would  haunt  your  guilty 
foul ;  and,  if  you  have  any  confcience  left,  harrow  up 
remorfe,  and  awaken  you  to  repentance. 

Don  P,  I  did  not  admit  a  tenant  into  my  houfe 
to  hear  a  moral  lc6ture  from  him. 

Ten,  If  you  will  take  your  money,  I  will  quit  your 
houfe  with  pleafure.  But  before  we  part,  give  me 
leave  to  tell  you,  that,  though  your  great  wealth  has 
exalted  you  above  yourfelf,  and,  in  your  own  opinion, 
placed  you  beyond  the  reach  of  poverty,  the  time  may 
come  when  you  vfiWfeel  what  oppreffion  is. 

Wife,  I  entreat  you  to  receive  the  money  and  be 
tontent. 

Don  P.  A  woman,  who  can't  be  filent  in  her  huf- 
band's  prefence,  efpecially  when  he  is  negociating  im- 
portant bufinefs,  may  take  a  modeft  hint  to  leave  the 
room.  \_Exit  Wife, 

Ten,  If  you  are  refolved  not  to  receive  your  money, 
I  muft  carry  it  home  again.  And  I  hope  the  time  is 
not  far  diftant,  when  I  Ihall  be  out  of  the  reach  of 
your  oppreflive  hands.  \^Exit. 

Don  P.  [Solus.~\  Every  man  I  deal  with  is  trying 
to  cheat  me.  Mankind  are  by  nature  all  knaves.  I 
am  afraid  to  truft  even  my  beft  friends.  What  an  af- 
fli<Slion  it  is  to  have  property  !  The  poor  always  think 
that  the  rich  are  bound  to  maintain  them,  and  are 
never  fatisfied  with  what  is  done  for  them.  My  ten- 
ants would  be  glad  to  live  in  my  houfes  rent  free  if 
they  could.  This,  I  am  perfuaded,  they  learned  of 
my  father  *,  but  FU  foon  teach  them  to  expe<St  differ- 
ent things.  Rather  than  matters  fhould  go  on  at  fuch 
loofe  ends,  Fll  fell  every  one  of  my  buildings,  and  put 
the  money  in  bank.  My  mind  is  conftantly  on  the 
itretch  to  contrive  ways  and  me^ns  to  prt;ferve  what 


92  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

little  I  poflefs.     It  is  well  my  father  left  his  property  ' 
to  me.     Had  he  left  it  to  one  of  only  common  under- 
ftanding,  thefe  plotting  tenants  would  have  run  away 
with  the  whole  of  it. 

Enter  fecond  Tenant. 

id.  Ten.  Sir,  I  appear  before  you  to  crave  your 
companion.  I  am  the  moft  unfortunate  of  all  your 
tenants.  My  misfortune  is,  to  be  obliged  to  remain 
in  your  houfe,  after  it  is  your  pleafure  that  I  fliould 
leave  it. 

Do?i  P.  To»morrow  I  will  cure  you  of  your  misfor- 
tune ;  for  if  you  cannot  get  out  yourfelf,  I  will  help 
you  out. 

2d.  Ten.  Why  may  I  not  remain  }  It  may  be  for 
your  intereft  as  well  as  mine.  I  have  ever  made  you 
puniftual  payment ;  and  ftand  ready  now  to  give  as 
much  as  any  other  man,  or  as  much  as  your  con- 
fcience  will  iuffer  you  to  demand. 

T)o7i  P.  My  will  and  pleafure  is,  that  you  depart 
immediately.  My  reafons  for  my  conduft  I  give  to  no 
man. 

2d.  Ten.  But,  Sir,  I  have  a  claim  upon  your  mercy. 
You  are  not  infenfible  of  the  pains  I've  taken  to  accom- 
pli fh  what  you  wifh.  Neceffity  is  the  only  reafon  why 
I  alk  this  favour.  One  fpecial  reafon  why  you  ought 
to  grant  it  is,  that  I  am  now  in  your  fervice  with  the 
fame  falary  as  in  years  paft ;  when  your  good  father  was 
fatisfied  with  one  fourth  the  fum  his  craving  Ion  de- 
mands. I  have  been  you  muft  allow,  a  faithful  flave 
to  your  children.  They  have  long  received,  and  flill 
receive  my  beft  inftru^lion,  without  an  augmentation 
of  reward.  If  you  will  not  hear  the  plea  of  mercy, 
grant  me  juftice.  If  you  increafe  your  price  of  rent, 
increafe  my  pay. 

Don  P.  I  meddle  not  with  your  affairs.  Look  out 
for  your  pay  among  your  employers.  I  am  but  one 
among  many,  and  promife  you  that  I  fhall  not  be  fore- 
moft  to  enhance  the  price  of  infl:ru(Slion,  while  children 
are  io  numerous.    My  houfcs  are  my  own.    I  bou^t 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  93 

them  with  my  own  money  •,  and  fhall  difpofe  of  them 
at  my  own  pleafure. 

2d.  Ten.  You  fpeak  as  though  you  were  lord  of 
the  creation,  and  had  the  world  at  your  command. 

Don  P.  I  am  lord  of  my  own  pofleffions  ;  and  Ihall 
not  afk  my  tenants  how  I  am  to  difpofe  of  them. 

7.d.  Ten.  Did  you  ever  read,  that  "  Riches  take  to 
themfelves  wings,  and  fly  away  ?" 

Don  P.  I  am  not  appreheniive  that  any  wings  are 
attached  to  my  property. 

2d.  Ten.  Your  mountain  may  not  ftand  fo  ftrong  as 
you  think  it  does.  The  cries  of  the  fatherlefs  and  the 
widow,  who  have  groaned  under  your  oppreffion,  have 
reached  the  heavens,  and  you  have  reafon  to  fear  they 
will  be  anfwered  with  vengeance  on  your  head.  Did 
you  but  believe  in  a  future  day  of  retribution,  as  you 
have  impioufly  profefTed,  you  would  ferioufly  engage 
in  the  work  of  repentance  and  reformation  j  which,, 
let  me  tell  you,  it  is  prefumption  to  neglect. 
Re-enter firjl  Tenant,  nvith  a  Lawyer. 

\Ji.  Ten.  I  pray  you  to  accept  your  money,  and 
give  me  a  difcharge. 

Don  P.  I  told  you,  not  a  cent,  till  the  whole  a- 
mount  was  paid. 

Law.  That  is  fufficient.  The  law  allows  no  force 
in  paying  debts.  Every  creditor  has  an  undoubted 
right  to  refufe  his  money,  when  offered  by  his  debtor. 
This  he  has  done  before  witnefs.  I  now  declare  it 
forfeit.     Keep  it  as  your  own. 

Don  P.  Rogues  will  always  combine  againfl:  honeft 
men.'  The  whole  world  are  endeavouring  to  cheat 
me  out  of  my  lawful  earnings.  My  beft  friends  have 
become  my  worft  enemies. 

Law.  You  have  no  friends  ;  nor  will  you  ever  have, 
fo  long  as  you  make  an  idol  of  your  own  dear  felf. 

Don  P.  My  property  is  my  beft  friend,  and  one 
which  I  truft  will  never  forfake  me. 

\Qr^  of  fire  without^ 


94  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Enter  Servant  in  hafte. 

Ser.     Sir,  your  long  row  of  buildings  is  all  in  flames  ! 

Don  P.  Impoflible  ! — They  were  all  to  be  infured 
to-morrow ! 

Ser.  It  is  ferioufly  true !  and  the  roofs  are  now 
tumbling  to  the  ground. 

Don  P.  Then  immediately  call  all  hands,  and  put 
fire  to  this,  and  every  other  building  I  pofTefs ;  that 
they  may  all  go  to  deftru6lion  together. 

2d.  Ten.  That  looks  fomething  like  giving  wings 
to  your  riches. 

Don  P.  If  I  had  had  one  thimble  full  of  brains,  I 
fhould  have  got  them  infured  before.  O  horrible  ca- 
taftrophe  !  Not  only  wicked  men  and  devils,  but  even 
the  elements  themfelves  have  turned  againft  me. 

Law.  Compofe  yourfelf,  dear  fir.  Your  befl  friend 
won't  be  fo  cruel  as  to  forfake  you,  at  this  critical 
moment. 

Don  P.  Is  my  money  fafe  ?  If  that  is  burnt.  Til 
burn  myfelf.  Oh  that  I  had  permitted  my  tenants  to 
remain,  that  they  and  their  property  might  all  have 
perilhed  in  the  flames  together- 


Lord  Mansfield's  Speech,  in  Support  op 
A  Bill  for  preventing  Delays  of  Justice,  by 
Reason  of  Privilege  of  Parliament,  1770. 

My  Lords, 

1HAVE  waited  with  patience  to  hear  what  argu- 
ments might  be  urged  againfl:  the  bill ;  but  I  have 
waited  in  vain  ;  the  truth  is,  there  is  no  argument  that 
can  weigh  againft:  it.  The  juftice  and  expediency  of 
the  bill  are  fuch  as  render  it  felf-evident.  It  is  a  pro- 
pofition  of  that  nature,  that  can  neither  be  weakened 
by  argument,  nor  entangled  with  fophiftry. 

We  all  know,  that  the  very  foul  and  eflTence  of  trade, 
are  regular  payments  j  and  fad  experience  teaches  us, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  95 

that  there  are  men,  who  will  not  make  their  regular 
payments  without  the  compullive  power  of  the  laws. 
The  law  then  ought  to  be  equally  open  to  all.  Any 
exemption  to  particular  men,  or  particular  ranks  of 
men,  is,  in  a  free  and  commercial  country,  a  folecifm 
of  the  grofleft  nature. 

I  will  not  trouble  your  lordfliips  with  arguments  for 
that  which  is  fufHciently  evident  without  any.  I  fhall 
only  fay  a  few  words  to  fome  noble  lords,  who  fore-  - 
fee  much  inconveniency  from  the  perfons  of  their  fer- 
vants  being  liable  to  be  arrefted.  One  noble  lord  ob- 
ferves,  that  the  coachman  of  a  peer  may  be  arrefled 
while  he  is  driving  his  mafler  to  the  Houfe  ;  and,  con- 
fequently,  he  will  not  be  able  to  attend  his  duty  in 
Parliament.  If  this  were  acStually  to  happen,  there  are 
£0  many  ways  by  which  the  member  might  flili  get  to 
the  Houfe,  that  I  can  hardly  think  the  noble  lord  is  fe- 
rious  in  his  objection.  Another  noble  peer  faid,  that 
by  this  bill  we  might  lofe  our  moft  valuable  and  honeft 
fervants.  This  I  hold  to  be  a  contradiction  in  terms  : 
for  he  can  neither  be  a  valuable  fervant,  nor  an  honeft 
man,  who  gets  into  debt  which  he  is  neither  able  nor 
willing  to  pay,  till  compelled  by  law. 

If  my  fervant,  by  unforefeen  accidents,  has  run  into 
debt,  and  I  ftill  wifh  to  retain  him,  I  certainly  would 
pay  the  debt.  But  upon  no  principle  of  liberal  legif-  . 
lation  whatever,  can  my  fervant  have  a  title  to  fet  his 
creditors  at  defiance,  while  for  forty  fhillings  only,  the 
honeft  tradefman  may  be  torn  from  his  family,  and 
locked  up  in  a  jail.  It  is  monftrous  injuftice  !  I  flat- 
ter myfelf,  however,  the  determination  of  this  day  will 
entirely  put  an  end  to  all  fuch  partial  proceedings  for 
the  future,  by  palling  into  a  law  the  bill  now  under 
your  lordfhips'  confideration. 

I  come  now  to  fpeak,  upon  what,  indeed,  I  would 
have  gladly  avoided,  had  I  not  been  particularly  point- 
ed at  for  the  part  I  have  taken  in  this  bill.  It  has 
been  faid  by  a  noble  lord  on  my  left  handj  that  I  like- 
wife  am  running  the  race  of  popularity.     If  the  noble 


^6  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

lord  means  by  popularity,  that  applaufe  beftowed  by 
after-ages  on  good  and  virtuous  actions,  I  have  long 
been  ftruggling  in  that  race.  But  if  he  mean  that 
mufhroom  popularity, which  is  raifed  v/ithout  merit  and 
loft  without  a  crime,  he  much  miftakes  in  his  opinion. 

I  defy  the  noble  lord  to  point  out  a  fingle  adiion  of 
my  life,  where  the  popularity  of  the  times  ever  had 
the  fmalleft  influence  on  my  determinations.  I  have  a 
more  permanent  and  fteady  rule  for  my  condu<5l,  the 
dictates  of  my  ov/n  breaft.  Thofe  who  have  foregone 
that  pleafing  advifer,  and  given  up  their  mind  to  be  the 
flave  of  every  popular  impulfe,  I  fincerely  pity.  I 
pity  them  ftill  more,  if  their  vanity  leads  them  to  mif- 
take  the  fliouts  of  a  mob  for  the  trumpet  of  fame.  Ex- 
perience might  inform  them,  that  many  who  have  been 
fainted  with  the  huzzas  of  a  crowd,  one  day,  have 
received  their  execrations  the  next  ;  and  many,  who, 
by  the  popularity  of  their  times,  have  been  held  up  as 
fpotlefs  patriots,  have,  neverthelefs,  appeared  upon  the 
hiftorian's  page,  when  truth  has  triumphed  over  delu- 
fion,  the  alTaffins  of  liberty. 

Why  then  the  noble  lord  can  think  I  am  ambitious 
of  prefent  popularity,  that  echo  of  folly,  and  fliadow  of 
renown,  I  am  at  a  lofs  to  determine.  Befides,  I  do 
not  know  that  the  bill  now  before  your  lordfhips  will 
be  popular.  It  depends  much  upon  the  caprice  of  the 
day.  It  may  not  be  popular  to  compel  people  to  pay 
their  debts  *,  and,  in  that  cafe,  the  prefent  muft  be  a 
very  unpopular  bill.  It  may  not  be  popular  neither 
to  take  away  any  of  the  privileges  of  parliament ;  for 
1  very  well  remember,  and  many  of  your  lordfliips 
may  remember,  that  not  long  ago  the  popular  cry  was 
for  the  extenfion  of  privilege  5  and  fo  far  did  they 
carry  it  at  that  time,  that  it  was  faid  that  the  privilege 
protedled  members  even  in  criminal  actions.  Nay,  fuch 
was  the  power  of  popular  pi^ejudices  over  weak  minds> 
that  the  very  decifions  of  fome  of  the  courts  were  tinc- 
tured with  that  doctrine. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  97 

It  was  undoubtedly  an  abominable  doctrine.  I 
thought  fo  then,  and  think  fo  flill :  but  neverthelefs, 
it  was  a  popular  dodlrine,  and  came  immediately  from 
thofe  who  were  called  the  friends  of  liberty  -,  how  de- 
fer vedly,  time  will  fiiow.  True  liberty,  in  my  opin- 
ion, can  only  exift  when  juftice  is  equally  adminiftered 
to  all  ;  to  the  king,  and  to  the  beggar.  Where  is  the 
juftice  then,  or  where  is  the  law  that  protefVs  a  mem- 
ber of  parliam.ent  more  than  any  other  man,  from  the 
punilhment  due  to  his  crimes  ?  The  laws  of  this  coun- 
try allow  of  no  place,  nor  any  employment,  to  be  a 
fandluary  for  crimes  :  and  where  I  have  the  honor  to 
fit  as  judge,  neither  royal  favour,  nor  popular  applaufe 
ihall  ever  protedl  the  guilty. 


Extract  from  a  Sermon  on  the  Day  of 
Judgment. 

LET  us  endeavor  to  realize  the  majefty  and  terror 
of  the  univerial  alarm  on  the  final  Judgment  Day. 
When  the  dead  are  fl^eping  in  the  filent  grave  ;  v/hen 
the  living  are   thoughtlefs  and  unapprehenfive  of  the 
grand  event,  or  intent  on  other  purfuits  ;  fome  of  them 
afleep  in  the  dead  of  night  ;  fome  of  them  diiTolved  in 
fenfual  pleafures,  eating  and  drinking,  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage  ;  fome  of  them  planning  or  execut- 
ing fchemes  for  riches  or  honors  j  fome  in  the  very 
act  of  fin  ;  the  generality  ftupid  and  carelel^  about 
the  con(ierns  of  eternity,  and  the  dreadful  day  juft  at 
hand  ;  and  a  few  here  and  there  converflng  with  their 
God,  and  looking  for  the  glorious  appearance  of  their 
Lord  and  Saviour ;  when  the  courfe  of  nature  runs  on 
uniform  and  regular  as  ufual,  and  infidel  fcoffers  are 
taking  umbrage  from  thence  to  a£k,  *' Where  is  the 
promife  of  his  coming  ?"  In  fhort,  when  there  are  no 
more  vifible  appearances  of  this  approaching  day,  than 
of  the  deftrudlion  of  Sodom,  on  that  clear  morning  in 
which  Lot  fled  away  j  or  of  the  deluge,  when  Noah  en* 


98  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

tcred  into  the  ark  :  then,  In  that  hour  of  unapprehenfive 
fecurity,  then  fuddenly  Ihall  the  heavens  open  over  the 
aftoniihed  world  ;  then  lliall  the  alarming  clangor  break 
over  their  heads  like  a  clap  of  thunder  in  a  clear  iky. 

Immediately  the  living  turn  their  gazing  eyes  upon 
the  amazing  phenomenon  :  fome  hear  the  long  expect- 
ed found  with  rapture,  and  lift  up  their  heads  with 
joy,  afTured  that  the  day  of  their  redemption  is  come  ; 
while  the  thoughtlefs  world  are  ftruck  with  the  wildefl 
horror  and  confternation.  In  the  fame  inftant  the 
found  reaches  all  the  manfions  of  the  dead  ;  and  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  they  are  raifed, 
and  the  living  are  changed.  This  call  will  be  as  ani- 
mating to  all  the  fons  of  men,  as  that  call  to  a  finglc 
perfon,  «* Lazarus,  come  forth."  O  what  a  furprife  will 
this  be  to  the  thoughtlefs  v/orld  !  Should  this  alarm 
burfi:  over  our  heads  this  moment,  into  what  a  terror 
would  it  ftrike  many  in  this  afTcmbly  ?  Such  will  be 
the  terror,  fuch  the  confternation,  when  it  a<Si:ualIy 
comes  to  pafs.  Sinners  will  be  the  fame  timorous,  felf- 
condemned  creatures  then  as  they  are  now.  And  then 
they  will  not  be  able  to  ftop  their  ears,  who  are  deaf 
to  all  the  gentler  calls  of  tlie  gofpel  now. 

Then  the  trump  of  God  will  conftrain  them  to  hear 
and  fear,  to  whom  the  minifcers  of  Chrift  now  preach 
in  vain.  Then  they  m.uft  all  hear  ;  for,  "all  that 
are  in  their  graves,''  all  without  exception,  "  fhall 
hear  his  voice."  Now  the  voice  of  mercy  calls,  reafon 
pleads,  confcience  warns  ;  but  multitudes  will  not  hear. 
But  this  is  a  voice  which  fliall,  which  muft  reach  every 
one  of  the  millions  of  mankind,  and  not  one  of  them 
will  be  able  to  flop  his  cars.  Infants  and  giants,  kings  ' 
and  fubjec^,  all  ranks,  all  ages  of  mankind  fhall  hear 
the  call.  The  living  iliall  flart  and  be  changed,  and  the 
dead  rife  at  the  found.  The  duft  that  was  once  alive 
and  formed  a  human  body,  whether  it  flies  in  the  air, 
floats  in  the  ocean,  or  vegetates  on  earth,  fhall  hear 
the  new-creating  fiat.  Wherever  the  fragments  of 
the  human  frame  are  fcattered,  this  all-penetratipg  call 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  99 

fliall  reach  and  fpeak  them  into  life.  We  may  confider 
this  voice  as  a  fummons  not  only  to  dead  bodies  to  rife, 
but  to  the  fouls  that  once  animated  them,  to  appear 
and  be  re- united  to  them. 

This  fummons  fhall  fpread  through  every  corner  of 
the  univerfe  ;  and  Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell,  and  all 
their  inhabitants,  fhall  hear  and  obey.  Now  methinks 
I  fee,  I  hear  the  earth  heaving,  charnel-houfes  rattling, 
tombs  burfting,  graves  opening.  Now  the  nations  un- 
der ground  begin  to  (k'lr.  Th«:re  is  a  ncife  and  a  Iha- 
king  among  the  dry  bones.  The  duf^  is  all  alive,  and 
in  motion,  and  the  globe  breaks  and  trembles,  as  with 
an  earthquake,  while  this  vaft  army  is  working  its  way 
through,  and  burfting  into  life.  The  ruins  of  human 
bodies  are  fcattered  far  and  wide,  and  have  pafied 
through  many,  and  furprifing  transformations.  A  limb 
in  one  country,  and  another  in  another  ;  here  the  head, 
and  there  the  trunk  ;  and  the  ocean  rolling  between. 

And  now,  at  the  found  of  the  trumpet,  they  fhall  all 
be  collected,  wherever  they  were  fcattered  •,  all  prop- 
erly forted  and  united,  however  they  were  con  fu fed  ; 
atom  to  its  fellow  atom,  bone  to  its  fellow  bone.  Now 
methinks  you  may  fee  the  air  darkened  with  fragments 
of  bodies,  flying  from  country  to  country,  to  meet  and 
join  their  proper  parts  : 

'« Scatter d  limbs  and  all 

The  various  bones  obfequious  to  the  call, 
Self-mov'd,  advance  ;  the  neck  perhaps  to  meet 
The  diftant  head,  the  diftant  legs,  the  feet. 
Dreadful  to  view,  fee  through  the  duflvy  Iky 
Fragments  of  bodies  in  confufion  fly, 
To  diftant  regions  journeying,  there  to  claim 
Deferted  members,  and  complete  the  frame. 
The  fever'd  head  and  trunk  fhall  join  once  more,  v 
Though  realms  now  rife  between,  and  oceans  roar. 
The  trumpet's  found  each  vagrant  mote  fliall  hear. 
Or  fix'd  in  earth,  or  if  afloat  in  air, 
Obey  the  fignal,  wafted  in  the  wind. 
And  not  one  fleeping  atom  lag  behind." 


100         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Christ  triumphant  over  the  apostate 
Angels. 

O  fpake  the  Soh,  and  into  terror  changed 
His  count'nance,  too  fevere  to  be  beheld  ; 
And  full  of  wrath  bent  on  his  enemies. 
At  once  the  Four  fpread  out  their  iiarry  wings 
With  dreadful  ihade  contiguous,  and  the  orbs 
Of  his  fierce  chnriot  roll'd,  as  with  the  found 
Of  torrent  floods,  or  of  a  numerous  hoft. 
He  on  his  impious  foes  right  onward  drove, 
Gloomy  as  night ;  under  his  burning  wheels 
The  fteadfaft  empyrean  fliook  throughout, 
All  but  the  throne  itfelf  of  God.     Full  foon 
Among  them  he  arriv'd,  in  his  right  hand 
Grafping  ten  thoufand  thunders,  which  he  fent 
Before  him,  fuch  as  in  their  fouls  infix'd 
Plagues  ;  they,  aftonifh'd,  all  refinance  lofl:, 
Ail  courage  ;  down  their  idle  weapons  dropt ; 
O'er  fliields,  and  helms,  and  helmed  heads,  he  rode» 
Of  thrones  r.nd  mighty  feraphim  proflrate, 
That  wifh'd  the  mountains  now  might  be  again 
Thrown  on  them  as  a  fhelter  from  his  ire. 
Nor  lefs  on  either  ilde  tempeftuous  fell 
His  arrows,  from  the  fourfold-viiag'd  Four 
Diftinct  with  eyes,  and  from  the  living  wheels 
Diftincl  alike  with  multitude  of  eyes  ; 
One  fpirit  in  them  ruFd,  and  every  eye 
Glar'd  lightning,  and  fhot  forth  pernicious  fire 
Am.ong  th'  accurs'd,  that  wither'd  all  their  ftrength^ 
And  of  their  wonted  vigour  left  them  drained, 
Exhauiled,  fpiritlefs,  affliaed,  fall'n. 
Yet  half  his  ftrength  he  put  not  forth,  but  checked 
His  thunder  in  mid  volley  *,  for  he  meant 
Not  to  deftroy,  but  root  them  out  of  Heav'n. 
The  overthrown  he  rais'd,  and  as  a  herd 
Of  goats  or  tim'rous  flock  together  thronged. 
Drove  them  before  him  thunderftruck,  purfned 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORAtOH.         191 

With  terrors  and  with  furies  to  the  bounds 
And  cryftal  wall  of  Heav'n,  which,  opening  wide, 
Roird  inward,  and  a  fpacious  gap  difclos'd 
Into  the  wafteful  deep  •,  the  monftrous  iight 
Struck  them  with  horror  backward,  but  far  worfe 
Urg'd  them  behind  ;  headlong  themfelves  they  threw 
Down  from  the  verge  of  Heav'n  ;  eternal  wrath 
Burnt  after  them  to  the  bottomlefs  pit. 

Hell  heard  tli'  unfufferable  noife  ;  Hell  faw 
Heav'n  running  from  Heav'n,  and  would  have  fled 
Affrighted  ;  but  ftridl  Fate  had  caft  too  deep 
Her  dark  foundations,  and  too  faft  had  bound. 
Nine  days  they  fell  ;  confounded  Chaos  roar'd, 
And  felt  tenfold  confufion  in  their  fill  : 
Through  his  wild  anarchy,  fo  huge  a  rout 
Incumber'd  him  with  ruin.     Hell  at  laft 
Yawning  received  them  whole,  and  on  them  clo.s'd  j 
Hell,  their  fit  habitation,  fraught  with  fire 
Unquenchable,  the  houfe  of  woe  and  pain. 

Difburden'd  Heav'n  rejoic'd,  and  foon  repaired 
Her  mural  breach,  returning  whence  it  roli'd. 
Sole  vidlor  from  th'  expulfion  of  his  foes, 
Mefliah  his  triumphal  chariot  turn'd  : 
To  meet  him  all  his  faints,  who  filent  ftood 
Eye-witnefl"es  of  his  almighty  a6fcs. 
With  jubilee  advanced  ;  and  as  they  went, 
Shaded  with  branching  palm,  each  order  bright^ 
Sung  triumph,  and  him  fung  vidtorious  King, 
Son,  Heir,  and  Lord,  to  him  dominion  given 
Worthieft  to  reign.     He,  celebrated,  rode 
Triumphant  through  mid  Heav'n,  into  the  courta 
And  temple  of  his  mighty  Father,  thron'd 
On  high  ;  who  into  glory  him  receiv'd, 
Where  npw  he  fits  at  the  right  hand  of  blifs. 


I  2 


102         THE  COLUMBIAN'  ORATOl. 

Slaves  in  Barbary  ; 
A  Drama  in  two  Acts. 

Persons  of  the  Drama. 

HaMET,  Bajhaiv  of  Tunis. 

.     ""    '  Y  Brothers.,  and  Slaves  in  Tunis. 

Amandar,      5 

Fr  ANCi  SCO,  Brother  to  Ozro  and  Amandar,  fent  to  redeem  ihem. 

Kidnap,  An  American  Captive. 

Or  AN,  A  Pur  chafer  of  Slaves. 

Zanga 


Zanga,  7  V      r-  At 

„  y  cea  Lapti 

GORION,  3  -^ 


ains. 


Teague,  An  Irijh  Captive. 

•Sharp,  An  African ^  and  Kidnap'' s  Slave. 

Vjficvrf  AuSileriiHi',  Guards,  Attendants,  Piirehafers  ^f  Slaves,  llfs> 

Acl:  I. 

Scene  I. 
A  Garden. 

Am Al^D ATSL  foIuSf  confined  with  a  chain. 

IN  vain  the  flowers  fpread  their  gaudy  colours,  and 
fill  the  air  with  fragrance.  The  fun  has  not  a 
cheering  beam  for  me.  All  nature^s  fmiles  are  frowns 
to  him,  who  wears  the  chain  of  bondage.  Fifteen 
^long  months  have  witnefTed  my  misfortune  :  what  luck- 
lefs  winds  delay  Francifco's  palTage  ^ 

Enter  Oran  luith  a  cane, 

Oron.  Moping  fugitive  !  quick  to  your  tafk.  \Beat''- 
ing  him.']  I  have  not  placed  you  here  to  mutter  to 
the  herbs  and  flowers  :  they  need  the  labour  of  your 
hands.  Let  them  have  it ;  or  heavier  blows  fhall  pun- 
ilh  your  negledl. 

Aman.  Then  do  your  worf^  \  I  aik  the  fatal  blow^ 
to  put  a  period  to  my  miferies. 

Oran,  Your  life  is  in  my  hands  ;  but  it  fhall  be 
'prolonged ;  and  with  your  life,  Fil  lengthen  out  your, 
miferies. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  i<^3 

A  man.     Unfeeling  tyrant !  From  you  I  only  afk  the 
murderer's  office.     Speech  was  defigned  for  friendly 
intercourfej  it  ill  becomes  the  tiger.     In  brutal  filence, 
you  may  tear  my  flefh  :  add  not  the  fting  of  words. 
Enter  OzRO. 

Oran,  Hah  !  Ozro.  A  flave  enlarged  is  no  grate- 
ful %ht  to  his  old  mafter.  \_Aftde, 

Ozro.     I  come,  my  brother,  to  end  your  fufFerings. 

Aman.  Welcome  I  You  know  them  to  be  more 
than  man  can  bear. 

Oran,  Vile  intruder  !  are  you  fo  foon  intoxicated 
with  your  liberty  ?  Quick,  flee  this  place  ;  or  ftronger 
chains,  than  bound  you  here  before,  fhall  fober  you 
again. 

0%ro.  Talk  not  of  chains ;  but  rather  learn  to 
dread  the  hand,  on  which  they  have  been  bound.  I 
come  to  execute  the  orders  of  your  lord  and  mafter  ; 
not  to  be  frightened  with  your  threats.  Amandar's 
injuries  have  reached  the  ears  of  the  Baftiaw  *,  and  I 
am  fent 

Oran.  Tale-bearing  renegade  !  Well,  I  £hall  learn 
to  hufband  my  own  property,  and  give  up  no  more 
Haves  for  Hamet*s  counfellors.     Attend  your  duty  ! 

[To  Amandar^Jir iking  him. 

Ozro,     Repeat  that  blow,  and  it  fhall  coft  you  dear. 

Oran.  Caitiff!  begone  from  hence;  or  even  the 
Bafhaw  fhall  not  defend  you  from  my  indignation. 
Quick,  leave  my  fight  ! 

Ozro.  Not  while  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  ex- 
crcife  your  tyranny  over  my  brother.  But  yefterday, 
you  promifed  to  fell  Amandar  for  this  fum  :  here  it  is^ 
ready  counted  to  your  hands.     I  demand  him  of  you. 

Oran.  One  half  this  fum  would  have  bought  him 
yefterday.  It  is  my  prefent  choice  to  facrifice  my 
property  for  my  revenge.  I  will  double  his  ta£k  and 
fhorten  his  allowance,  till  his  pride  is  reduced,  and  he 
becomes  more  profitable,  by  additional  feverity.  Tlvis 
is  my  promife  to-day :  tafce  it  for  your  folaces 


104         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Ozro.  Monfter  !  would  you  forever  feaft  your  foul 
on  the  miferies  of  the  unfortunate  ?  Your  word  is 
pafTed  ;  recal  it  at  the  peril  of  your  life.  There  is  your 
money.     \_Flinging  it  at  his  feet.']     Amandar  is — 

Oran.  When  foreign  ruffians,  who  ought  to  wear 
the  chains  of  bondage,  are  armed  with  fwords,  all 
right  is  loft ;  our  property  is  given  to  the  winds. 
Were  it  not  for  what  weak  heads,  and  fickly  hearts 
call  juftice,  Fd  feaft  my  dogs  upon  your  flefli. 

Ch:ro.  Go  Tent  your  railings  to  the  favage  beafts, 
that  prey  on  one  another.  If  you  love  the  law  that 
fanflions  cruelty,  they  are  your  fit  afTociates.  Amandar, 
you  are  once  more  reftored  to  liberty  and  life.  \_Cut' 
ting  off  his  hands  with  his  fivordJ] 

\_Exeimt  Amandar  and  Ozro. 

Oran.     [Taking  his  mofiey.']  Thefe  high-bred  fellows 

make  but  poor  flaves.     'Tis  well  to  fhift  them  oiF  at 

any  rate.     I  will  take  care  how  I  lay  out  ray  money  for 

the  future.  {Exit,, 

Scene  II. 

The  Highiuay. 

Ozro  and  Amandar. 

Aman.  Am  I  deluded  by  a  dream  ?  or  is  this  real  ? 
What  angel  eye  of  pity  has  glanced  upon  us  ? 

O7.ro.  I  would  not  interrupt  thy  blifs,  nor  ftir  the 
dregs,  which  the  fair  furface  of  this  draught  conceals^ 
But  fortune  feems  to  make  our  happinefs  her  fport. 

Aman.  Has  not  the  Bafhaw  purchafed  our  freedom  l 
What  are  the  conditions  ? 

Ozro.  That  is  for  time  or  wild  conjecture  to  deter- 
mine.    We  muft  deliberate  what  courfe  to  take. 

Aman.  What  doft  thou  fay  ?  let  me  hear  the  worfti 

Ozro.  You  know  the  circumftanccs  of  my  liberation. 
All  had  the  appearance  of  affability  and  pity  in  the  Ba- 
fhaw. He  queftioned  particularly  concerning  our  fit^ 
uation,  and  feemed  moved  with  the  account  I  gave. 
I  informed  him,  our  brother  was  daily  expelled  with 
tlie  gleanings  of  an  unfortunate  father's  intereft  to  re- 


/     THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  105 

deem  us  from  our  chains,  and  reftore  us  to  a  difconfo- 
late  family.  He  turned  afide,  as  though  fome  fudden 
emotion  had  feized  his  mind  -,  then  exclaimed,  «  They 
fhall  be  mine  !"  The  money  was  paid  for  your  ran- 
fom,  and  committed  to  me.  We  arc  conlidered  as  his 
property. 

Aman.  What  then  creates  fufplcion  ?  This  favour 
has  fome  claim  upon  our  gratitude.  If  we  muft  err, 
let  it  be  on  the  fide  of  honor. 

Ozro.  So  thought  I,  Am.indar.  Thefe  were  the 
impreffions  of  the  moment.  Bat  avarice  often  aflumes 
the  appearance  of  generolity  :  and  malice,  to  make  its 
prey  more  fure,  puts  on  the  gulfe  of  pity.  If  the  Ba- 
fhaw's  motive  were  our  h^.ppinefs,  all,  but  my  freedom, 
I  would  pledge  to  pay  the  debt  of  gratitude-  But  I 
would  fooner  feek  the  lion's  den,  or  truft  the  mercy  of 
a  tiger,  than  commit  myfelf  to  a  mercenary  Turk.  A 
father's  fortune  well  may  tempt  the  hypocritic  ihow 
of  kindnefs  to  his  fons. 

Aman.  This  thought  gives  weight  to  your  fufpicion» 
Are  our  misfortunes  then  the  obje(Sl  of  bafe  fpecula* 
tion  ?  This  well  becomes  the  dignity  of  rulers  ;  the 
honor  of  the  prime  magiftrate  of  Tunis  I  to  feek  us 
out,  like  brutes,  to  buy  and  fell,  and  fill  his  coffers  on 
the  ruins  of  our  family.  But  ftay.  Is  there  no  room 
for  charity  ?  Tunis,  of  all  the  ftates  of  Barbary,  is 
famed  for  its  refinement.  Every  Turk  is  not  an  Oran, 
I  think  I  have  heard  theBafhaw  noted  for  his  humanity. 

Ozro.  That  ruler  has  but  an  ill  title  to  humanity, 
who  fuffers  his  fubje(Sl:s  to  trafiic  in  the  deareft  rights 
of  man,  and  fliares  himfelf  the  execrated  commerce. 

Aman.  True,  my  brother.  But  let  us  remember 
our  native  Venice.  We  have  feen  the  Turk  fold  there 
in  open  market,  and  expofed  to  all  the  indignities 
which  we  have  borne  with  Oran.  Nay,  more ;  we 
may  come  nearer  home,  and  fpread  the  blufh  on  our 
own  faces.  We  both  have  heard  the  ftory  of  the 
grateful  Turk,  who,  by  the  interceffion  of  Francifco, 
was  twice  releafed  from  fervitude.     He  had  a  noble 


ic6         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

foul,  a  feeling  heart.  Though  his  virtues  were  difcov- 
cred,  and  finally  rewarded  by  our  £\ther,  we  may  blufh 
that  they  were  fo  long  unheeded  by  our  countrymen, 
and  he  fuffered  to  languifh  in  ignominious  bondage. 

Ozi'o.  Your  words  have  weight.  For  the  fake  of 
this  noble  captive,  I  will  take  part  of  my  cenfure  from 
the  Turks,  and  fparc  it  for  my  countrymen.  Though 
this  was  done  before  my  memory,  the  ftory  paints  his 
virtues  to  my  mind  ;  and  had  I  no  other  claim,  I  would 
call  Francifco  brother  for  this  deed. 

Aman,  \_Jfter  a  paufe,']  Can  it  be  !  no  j  'tis  too 
much  to  think  of. 

Ozro,     What,  Amandar  ? 

Aman.  A  thought  has  ftruck  my  mind.  Help  to 
confirm,  or  to  confute  it. 

Enter  Guards  abruptly. 

Ozro,     lDrawing.2     Who  is  here  !  Stand  off  \ 

[^Guards  drcmf, 

\Ji  Guard.  But  look,  my  lads  I  You  fee  you  are 
outmanned.     We  are  more  than  two  to  one. 

Ozro.  Then  keep  your  diftance,  and  let  us  know 
your  bufinefs :  elfe,  were  yeu  ten  to  one,  Fd  make 
your  number  lefs. 

\Jl  Guard.  As  to  ouf  bufinefs,  wc  are  obliged  to 
let  you  know  it ;  or  I  believe  your  fwords  would  not 
frighten  us  to  it.     It  is  to  carry  you  to  the  Bafhaw. 

Ozro.     On  what  conditions  muft  we  go  ? 

\ft  Guard.  As  to  that,  we  fhali  not  be  nice.  We 
have  no  cavalry,  ye  fee  *,  fo  you  muft  be  content  to 
march  on  foot.  You  may  take  the  front,  or  centre, 
as  fuits  you  beft.  But  we  fhall  not  truft  you  in  the 
rear,  if  you  £how  a  difpofition  to  defert  us  •,  and,  if 
you  are  inclined  to  be  hoftile,  we  muft  fecure  that 
fword. 

Ozro.  I  afk  the  terms  on  which  we  are  to  go  ;  as 
flaves  or  freemen  } 

ift  Guard.  We  don't  wifli  to  take  the  trouble  to 
bind  you.     If  you  are  not  free  to  go,  we  muft  quicken 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  107 

your  march  with  the  point  of  our  fwords.  Our  orders 
are  to  return  immediately. 

Ozro,  Keep  us  no  longer  in  fufpenfe.  "We  now  arc 
free;  and 

ift  Guard,  As  to  that,  I  believe  you  are  a  little 
miftaken.  The  Bafhaw  has  bought  you  both,  and  paid 
for  you ;  and  we  fliall  look  better  to  his  intereft  than 
,    to  lofe  you  for  nothing,  d'ye  fee  ?  Come,  march  ! 

Ozro,  What  is  the  paltry  price,  compared  with 
years  of  mifery  ?  Perhaps  you  know  our  deftiny.  If 
we're  for  (ale  again,  tell  him,  we  give  the  terms.  This 
place  fliall  be  the  fair,  and  life  the  price. 

zji  Guard.  I  tell  you  again,  we  are  not  eafily  fright- 
ed. But  I  fee  you  are  afraid  of  getting  into  Oran's 
hands  again.  If  you  choofe  to  be  obftinate,  we  could 
eafily  flice  you  in  pieces,  and  carry  you  on  tlie  points 
of  our  fwords.  But  we  don't  wiili  to  fpoil  you  in 
fuch  a  manner.  Belides,  our  mafter  keeps  no  cut- 
throats. Our  orders  were  to  carry  you  fafe  to  the  Ba- 
fhaw, and  neither  hurt  you  ourfelves,  nor  let  any  bo- 
dy elfe.  You  may  wonder  at  this  extraordinary  hon- 
or, and  fo  do  we.  But  he  takes  a  liking  to  Chrif- 
tians,  and  is  very  often  doing  them  a  good  turn.  I 
fancy  fomething  uncommon  is  going  forward  to-day 
by  this  manoeuvre.  Perhaps  he  is  inclined  to  iin  a 
little  in  your  own  way,  by  drinking  a  few  bottles  of 
wine  with  you. 

Ozro.  [To  Jmandar.']  Their  honeft  franknefs  quite 
unarms  me.  I  hope  my  fufpicicns  have  been  ground- 
lefs. 

Aman.  Let  us  truft  ourfelves  to  their  care.  I  am 
siuxipvis  to  know  the  fequel. 

Scene  IIL 

Hamefs  Houfe, 

Harriet,  iSo/us.'}  The  grateful  day  returns,  that 
ij^ings  to  miiiid  my  generous  beneft<^or&.    The  birth- 


108         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

day  of  my  happinefs,  my  fortune,  and  my  honor.  Let 
it  be  facred  to  gratitude,  and  devoted  to  the  fons  of 
forrow. 

Enter  Officer. 

Officer.  Noble  Sir,  the  fale  of  prifoners  begins  in 
hah''  an  hour.  Is  it  your  pleafure  to  attend  the  auc- 
tion ? 

Hamet.  It  Is.  Hnve  them  upon  the  foot ;  and  fee 
that  they  are  treated  with  humanity.  \Exit  Officer.'] 
Ill-fated  men  J  their  lot  is  miferable  indeed.  Twere 
•almoii  juft  to  rife  above  the  laws,  and  give  them  all 
their  freedom.  \_Exit  Hamet, 

Scene  IV. 

27)^  Jlreet  in  Tunis, 

Enter  Crier,  ringing  his  bell. 

At  half  an  hour  from  this  time  !  will  be  fold  at  pub- 
lic auction  !  to  the  highefi:  bidder  !  prifoners  of  all  cot^ 
lours  !  forts  and  fizes  !  lately  captured  !  on  the  Medi- 
terranean !  and  brought  frefli  into  port !  warranted 
free  from  ficknefs,  and  wounds  !  Alfo,  a  conliderable 
number  !  a  little  damaged  !  by  mufket  fhot !  and  can- 
non balls  !  and  carelefs  handling,  with  long  knives  and 
broad  fwords !  and  for  want  of  wholefome  air  !  on  ea- 
fy  terms  for  the  purchafer.  [Exit  Crier, 


ACT   IL 

Scene  I. 

Gran,  'Walking  to  the  fair, 

Ormi.  [S^A/j-.]  Yes,  he  who  frees  a  flate,  arms  an 
aflaflin.  The  Bafliaw  may  learn  this  to  his  forrow.  Let 
him  look  to  that.  He  has  given  a  high  price  for  ftock, 
that  I  fhould  have  been  glad  to  turn  upon  his  hands. 
The  money  will  purchafe  two  for  one.  Gorton's  and 
,^anga's  freight  of  prifoners  will  aUnoft  glut  the  awr- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  109 

ket.  The  Bafliaw  may  be  as  oftentatious  as  he  pleafes 
of  his  boylfh  pity  :  thank  fortune,  I  am  not  fo  tender- 
hearted. No  :  dominion  is  the  right  of  man.  The 
love  of  power  is  planted  in  his  nature.  But  all  men 
can't  be  kings.  If  there  are  lords,  there  muft  be  flaves. 
And  what  muft  be,  is  right.  Let  moralizers  murmur 
at  the  doctrine ;  their  arguments  are  flender  threads ; 
feeble  as  thofe  who  fpin  them  out  from  lovers'  dreams, 
and  children's  notions.  What  is  juftice  without  power? 
The  flave's  ideal  friend ;  whom  he  would  wiih  to 
break  his  chains ;  on  whofe  credit,  he  would  eftablifli 
univerfal  government ;  then  dilTolve  connexion,  and 
ihut  his  partner  up  in  prifon.  ^Exit  Orat:. 

Scene  II. 

The  fair,  a  large  fquare. 
linter   Officer,  with  a   draivn  fivord ;     Zanga   and 
Gorton,    ivith  fwords,  followed  by  prifoners  pinion^ 
ed ;   bailors  in  the  rear;   AUCTIONEER,  l^c.  Sharp, 
a  negro,  fanding  by  Gorton, 

Officer  bringing  forward  ftck  and  wounded. 
AuElioneer,     Here,  gentlemen,  is  a  lot  we  (hall  not 
differ  about.     For  the  fake  of  difpatch,  we  will  put  up 
all  the  fragments  together.     Here  are  a  number  with 
broken  legs,  arms,  &c.  and  a  number  more  with  mortal 
wounds,  that  may  get  well,  or  may  not.     That  is  your 
rifk  ;  I  fliall  not  warrant  them.     Upwards  of  a  dozen : 
count  for  yourfelves.     Who  bids  ? 
B-nter  Hamet,  and  attendants  ,•  filence  obferved,  and  all 
pay  him  obeifance. 
Sharp.     Dat  a  man,  a  planter,  mafler  Gorton. 

[To  Gorton* 
AuB.     Examine  for  yourfelves :  who  bids  ? 
Oran.     Four  hundred  fequins  for  the  whole. 
AuB.     That  is  fcarce  the  price  of  one  good  able- 
bodied  flave. 

Oran.     They  will  not  do  me  half  the  fervice  at  pref- 
ent.     The  greater  part  of  them  are  not  able  to  cook 
K 


no         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

their  own  food  ;  much  lefs  to  earn  it.  Yet  they  muft 
be  fed ;  or  they  will  die  on  my  hands,  you  know. 
And  a  iick  or  dead  flave  is  the  very  worft  of  dead 
jftock.     I'll  give  no  more. 

Harriet.  Thefe  unfortunate  men  are  the  objects  of 
compaflion,  not  of  unfeeling  farcafm.  Raife  their 
price  to  five  hundred,  and  charge  them  to  my  account. 
Servants,  fee  them  removed  to  the  hofpital.  Let  a 
furgeon  be  employed  to  heal  their  wounds,  and  reftore 
them  to  health.      {Frijoners  bowing  refpeclfully.'^ 

\_Exeunt  fervants  and pr'ifoners. 

Sharp,  Dat  a  good  planter,  mafler  Gorton.    He  good 
to  white  man  ;  an  be  he  good  to  poor  negur  man  too  ? 
Officer  bringing  farward  a  number, 

AtiEi.  Here  are  a  parcel  of  lads  of  the  firft  quality; 
fuperfine  •,  the  fons  of  noblemen.  Their  relations  will 
give  their  weight  in  gold  to  redeem  them. 

\Jl  Purchafer.  And  their  country,  twice  their  weight 
rather  than  have  them  return. 

AuB.  Now  is  the  time  to  make  your  fortunes. 
Who  bids  ? 

Zanga.  [To  Gorton.']  Thefe,  I  fuppofe,  are  your 
champions,  that  took  flielter  in  the  hold,  with  their  fea- 
faring  brethren,  the  rats,  when  you  fought  them  ? 

Gorton.     The  fame. 

AuB.  One  !  two  !  three  !  Juft  going  for — nothing. 

ifl  Purchafer.  Precifely  what  they  are  valued  at, 
at  home.  You  know,  captains,  thefe  men  of  the  femi- 
nine gender,  don't  pafs  very  current  with  us.  You 
would  do  well  to  exchange  them  for  ballaft,  or  frefti 
water.  I  will  give  you  one  hundred  fequins  a  piece 
for  them. 

Gorton.  Strike  them  off !  It  is  cheaper  buying  men 
than  raifing  them  at  this  rate.  One,  two,  three,  four, 
five  of  them.     Clear  the  hatchway  ! 

[^Exeunt  ijl  Purchafer  and  prif oners. 
Officer  bringing  forivard  three  others. 

AuEl.  Here  are  three  ftout,  able-bodied  fellows  for 
you  *,  well  made  for  labour.     Who  bids  ? 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         m 

Sharp.     Dat  a  man  my  mafTer.    {^Pointing  to  Kidnap, 

2d  Piirchajer.  Mere  bladders  filled  with  wine.  Our 
labour  and  climate  will  blaft  them  like  mufhrooms. 

id  Purchafer.  Let  me  look  at  their  hands ;  they 
are  the  index  of  the  flave.  A  good  hard  hand  is  worth 
more  than  a  dozen  bloated  cheeks  and  barrel  bodies. 
Let  me  fee  how  they  are  put  together. 

\_Shakifig  them  by  the  jhoulders. 

Kidnap.     Stand  ofF  !  bafe  ruffian. 

{(jfficer  Jlrikes  hint. 

Sharp.  Dat  larn  you  ftrike  poor  negur.  Me  wiffi 
he  killa  you  !  [^Jjldc. 

Kidnap.      BLick  imp  !   be  filent. 

Officer.  This  fellow  is  a  rare  piece,  Fll  aflu^e  you. 
Rather  mettlefome  at  prefent.  Difcipline  him  freely 
with  a  whip  for  feveral  week^,  and  he  will  be  as  pa- 
tient as  a  Dutch  horfe. 

Kidnap.  Severe  reverfe  !  Now,  Africans,  I  learn  to 
pity  you.  \_Aftde. 

2,d  Purchafer.     What  does  he  fay  ? 

Officer.  I  fancy  he  wifhes  to  be  excufed  from  read- 
ing the  new  leaf  we  are  turning  over  for  him.  His 
dreams  have  been  very  much  inclined  to  tattle,  lincc 
he  has  been  in  prifon.  If  I  may  judge  from  them,  he 
has  been  a  wholefale  dealer  in  flaves  himfelf ;  and  is 
jufl:  beginning  the  hard  lefTon  of  repentance. 

Gorton.  Is  this  the  man  who  entertained  you  fo 
agreeably  in  his  fleep  ?  I  fhould  fuppofe  he  might  af- 
ford a  deal  of  amufement  when  awake. 

Officer.  He  was  in  a  very  companionable  mood  laft 
night.  He  muft  have  thought  himfelf  at  home  :  poor 
man,  I  am  almoft  forry  for  his  delufion.  In  his  fecial 
glee,  he  ordered  fix  dozen  of  port,  gave  Liberty  and 
Independence  for  a  toaft,  fung  an  ode  to  Freedom  \ 
and  after  fancying  he  had  kicked  over  the  tables,  bro- 
ken all  the  glafles,  and  lay  helplefs  on  the  floor,  gave 
orders,  attended  by  a  volley  of  oaths,  to  have  fifty  of 
his  flaves  whipped  thirty  ftripes  each,  for  finging  a 
liberty-fong  iii  echo  to  his  own ;  and  fix  more  to  be 


112        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

kung  up  by  the  heels  for  petitioning  him  for  a  draught 
of  milk  and  water,  while  he  was  revelling  with  his 
Jrunken  companions.  Then  waked  up,  and  exclaimed, 
O  happy  America !  farewcl  forever !  Juftice !  thou 
haft  overtaken  me  at  lafb. 

AuEl,  His  dreams  will  be  a  cafh  article.  Who  bids  ? 

yl  Furchafer.  Two  hundred  fcquins  a  piece,  for 
t\it  three. 

Hamct.  Oiliccr,  forward  that  man  :  I  wifh  to  fpeak 
with  him.  \_Officer  leads  Kidnap  to  Hamet. 

From  whence  are  you  .''  \To  Kidnap, 

Kidnap.      From  North  America. 

Hunict.     Tiie  boafted  land  of  liberty  ? 

Kidnap.     None  more  fo. 

Hamet.  Then  does  (he  realize  thofe  fcenes  your 
fancy  paints,  and  which  your  tongue  defcribes,  when 
off  its  guard  .'' 

Kidnap.  Take  fecond-handed  dreams  for  evidence, 
and  judge  as  you  pleafe  of  me,  or  my  country. 

Hamet.  Your  arrogance  is  evidence  againft  you. 
Stand  there  in  filence.  Bring  here  that  African.  [TV 
the  officer. '\  {Officer  leads  forward  Sharp. 

Was  that  man  your  mafter  ? 

Sharp.      Yes  a  mafler.  \_Boiuing. 

Hamet.  Is  he  a  kind  mafter  ?  Do  you  wifh  to  live 
with  him  ? 

Sharp.  No,  maffer  planter  !  he  get  drunk  !  he  whip 
me  !  he  knock  a  me  down  !  he  ftamp  on  a  me  !  he  will 
kill  a  me  dead  !  No  !  no  !  let  a  poor  negur  live  wid  a 
you,  mafier  planter ;  live  wid  a  maffer  officer ;  wid  a 
dat  a  man  ;  or  any  udder  man,  fore  I  go  back  America 
again  ;  fore  I  live  wid  a  malTer  Kidnap  again. 

Hainet.  Fear  not,  honeft  fellow:  nobody  ihallhurt  you. 

Shafp.  Tank  a  you,  maffer  !  blefs  a  you,  good  mafl^ 
er  planter  !  [_Bowing. 

Hamet.  [To  Officer.!^  Deliver  this  man  to  the  higheft 
bidder.  Let  mifery  teach  him,  what  he  could  never 
learn  in  affluence,  the  leffon  of  humanity. 

[3^  Piir chafer  takes  off  Kidnap  and  the  other  two^  and 
returns  again. ^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  143 

Common  fa'dors  brought  forward. 

AuEl,  Here  are  robutl  fellows  for  you  •,  reduced  to 
difcipline ;  hardened  by  toil  *,  proof  againft  heat  and 
cold,  wind  and  weather.  Now  is  your  laft  opportuni- 
ty.    Who  bids  ? 

4^/6  Purchafer.  Two  hundred  a  piece  for  the  whole. 

5/^  Purchafer,     Two  hundred  and  fifty. 

AuB,  Two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  going.  Their 
bare  bones  would  be  worth  half  that  for  fkeletons. 
But  they  are  well  ftrung  with  nerves,  and  covered  with 
hardy  flefh :  none  of  your  mufhrooms,  grown  up  in 
the  ihade.  Look  for  yourfelves  :  they  are  almoft  bul- 
let proof. 

Zanga.  Quite,  you  might  have  faid,  or  we  fliould 
have  made  riddling  fieves  of  them. 

Oran.     Three  hundred  a  piece. 

Aucl,  Three  hundred,  and  going.  One  !  two  ! 
three !  iStj^ikes. 

Zanga.  [To  Oran.l^  I  am  forry  we  were  obliged  to 
cut  fo  many  of  them  in  pieces,  before  we  could  per- 
fuade  them  to  ftrike.  The  whole  crew  would  furnifli 
a  fine  plantation ;  and  you  might  Uve  in  the  llyle  of 
a  Weil  India  planter. 

Officer.  Follow  your  mafter.  '[Oran  going ,-  flaves 
following.      OrarHs  fervants  follow  the  faves  with  whips. 

Teague.  \_Refufing  to  follow.~]  Ship-mates,  you  may 
do  as  you  pleafe.  I  fhould  be  glad  of  your  dear  com- 
pany 'y  but,  by  my  fhoul,  I  will  enter  no  man's  Ihip  by 
fea,  or  by  land,  till  I  know  the  conditions,  and  receive 
a  little  advance  pay. 

Oran.  Come  on,  my  lad ;  or  my  fervants  fhall  fee 
to  your  advance  pay.     [^Servant  Jlrikes  him  with  a  whip. 

Teague.  \_Burfling  his  pinions ^  and  feizing  Grants  fer- 
vant.'\  If  this  is  your  prompt  pay,  by  faint  Patrick  ! 
you  (hall  have  cnange  in  your  own  coin,  my  honey  ! 
D  ye  fee  !  I  could  tear  your  rigging  before  and  aft  like 
a  hurricane.  \_Shaking  him.  Officer  attempts  to  flrike 
him  with  hisfword;  other  fervants y  tvith  their  'Whips* 
K  2 


1 1 4         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Hamet.  Forbear  !  his  honeft  indignation  is  the  efFu- 
fion  of  humanity.  Let  him  fpeak  for  himfelf.  There 
is  fomething  in  this  ingenuous  tar,  that  moves  me  to 
K^o  him  a  kindnefs.  \AJide. 

Teague.  I  think,  an't  pleafe  your  honor,  a  poor 
failor  has  a  hard  time  enough  on't  to  encounter  wind 
and  weather,  hunger  and  thirft,  and  all  the  other 
dangers  of  the  main  fea ;  and  when  rain  and  fl-orms 
have  frowned  on  him  for  feveral  months,  he  ought  to 
find  a  little  funfliine  in  every  man's  face  -,  and  not  be 
bought  and  fold  like  dumb  beafts  in  the  market.  I 
believe  in  my  flioul,  if  one  were  to  get  rich  in  a  Chrif- 
tian  country  by  fuch  a  vile  trade,  the  judgments  of 
heaven  would  keep  him  poor  as  long  as  he  lived.  Ah, 
and  if  men  were  made  to  be  flaves  and  mafters,  why- 
was  not  one  man  born  with  a  whip  in  his  hand  and 
gold  fpoon  in  his  mouth ;  and  another,  with  a  chain 
on  iiis  arm,  or  a  fetter  to  his  heel ;  aye,  and  without 
a  tongue,  or  a  pair  of  jaws,  fo  long  as  one  mull:  not  be 
allovsTcl  to  yfe  them  ?  And  if  I  had  known  I  were  to 
live  a  dog^s  life  in  this  hard-hearted  country,  as  I  am 
a  ChriftJan,  I  would  have  fought  ye  till  I  died.  But, 
look  y^  !  all  hands  upon  deck ;  this  muckle  arm  of 
mine  is  free  ■,  and  by  the  blood  of  my  heart,  it  fhall 
be  torn  from  my  body,  before  I  will  be  bound  once 
more,  it  ihalL 

Oran.  I  msft  leave  that  unmanageable  creature 
ivith  you,  Zanga ;  I  have  had  too  much  to  do  with 
fuch  fellows  already. 

Hamet.  Tnift  him  with  me.  His  are  the  inborn 
virtues  I  admire :  virtues,  that  ought  to  make  the  ty- 
rant blufh  before  him,  and  find  him  friends,  wherever 
there  are  men. 

league.  On  my  honeft  word,  I  am  your  honor's 
gf^od  friend  and  fervant,  fo  long  as  T  live,  let  the 
winds  blow  as  they  wil).  Yes,  I  will  be  any  man's 
^^ood  friend  and  faithful  fervant,  that  will  fecure  my 
liberty  in  the  mean  time,  I  will. 


THE  COLUMBI  AN  OR  ATOR.  1 1 5 

AuB.  Here  is  this  honeft  negro  lad,  who  has  been 
under  the  benevolent  inftru<ftion  of  a  tafk-mafter,  and 
converted  to  Chriftianity  by  lectures  applied  to  the  na- 
ked bjtck  with  a  rope's  end,  or  nine-tail  whip.  He  is 
bred  to  his  bufinefs  -,  you  will  find  him  an  excellent 
purchafe ;  and  he  can  lofe  nothing  by  exchange  of 
mafters.     Who  bids  ? 

^th  Purchafer,     Three  hundred  fequins. 

3</  Purchafer.     Four  hundred. 

Officer.     Follow  that  man  •,  he  is  your  mailer. 

\To  Sharp. 

Sharp.     Yes  a  mafler.        [^Boiv'wg  to  his  fieiv  mafter^ 

^th  Purchafer.  You  give  too  much.  You  will  raife 
the  price  of  flaves  above  their  profit. 

3^  Purchafer.  I  have  my  reafons.  He  is  trained  ta 
his  bufinefs  :  I  intend  to  put  his  old  mafi:er  under  his 
infirucftion,  that  he  may  occafionally  have  the  advan- 
tage of  a  whip  lecture  from  his  former  flave,  whom  he 
has  treated  fo  kindly. 

^th  Purchafer.  Perfe(n:ly  right,  Sir.  Every  dog 
muft  have  his  day.        \_Exeunt  3^  Purchafer  and  Sharp. 

Zanga.  [^Leading  forward  Francfco.  This  man  has 
§oft  me  dear  •,  he  mull  command  a  price  accordingly. 

AuR.     Here  is  the  laft  purchafe  :  who  bids  } 

^th  Purchafer.  What  extraordinary  things  can  this 
fellow  do  ? 

Zanga.  He  can  clip  off  men's  heads  and  arms  with 
an  uncommon  flight  of  hand.  Had  it  not  been  for  his 
dexterity  at  this  art,  and  his  loud  acclamations  to  his 
crew,  I  fhould  not  have  been  repulfed  three  times  from 
their  deck,  with  the  lofs  of  half  my  men. 

^th  Purchafer.  This  is  your  misfortune ;  not  ours. 
Men  in  your  way  muft  run  the  rifk  of  lofing  an  arm 
and  even  a  head  once  in  a  while.  Courage  is  a  very 
good  recommendation  for  a  failor,  or  foldier  ;  but  for 
a  flave,  I  would  give  as  much  for  one  of  your  faint- 
hearted cowards,  that  you  find  hid  in  the  hold  in  time 
of  ai5lion,  as  for  half  a  dozen,  who  will  meet  you  with 
a  piftol  at  your  head. 


1 1 6         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

AuSl,     What,  does  nobody  bid  ? 

Zariga.  Thefe  are  the  marks  of  gratitude  and  hon- 
or fliown  to  us,  who  expofe  our  lives  to  procure  the 
means  of  eafe  and  luxury  for  our  countrymen.  My 
men,  whofe  wounds  are  witnefles  againft  him,  would 
give  a  generous  price  to  fatisfy  their  vengeance. 

Francifco.  Detefted  ruffian  !  blaft  not  the  names  of 
gratitude  and  honor  with  your  breath.  Has  not  my 
life  already  been  enough  expofed  ?  Then  let  thofe 
men,  who  wear  the  marks  my  courage  gave,  return  me 
wound  for  wound.  'Tis  not  enough  that  you  poffefs 
my  father's  fortune  ;  the  efFe£ls  of  an  induftrious  life, 
deligned  to  purchafe  from  your  barbarous  land,  two 
darling  fons  ;  more  than  his  life  to  him  ;  and  dearer 
than  my  own  to  me.  Their  mifery  is  not  fufficient. 
Myfelf,  the  only  ftay  of  his  declining  years,  muft  be 
forever  exiled  from  his  fight.  But  I  can  bear  the  worft 
that  malice  can  invent,  or  tyranny  infli6l.  If  you  have 
pity,  fpare  it  for  my  father  j  for  my  brothers  :  they 
have  flain  none  of  your  friends  ;  none  of  your  nation. 
I  can  endure  my  own  misfortunes :  theirs  are  infup- 
portable. 

Hamet.  Magnanimous  and  dutiful  fon  !  your  vir- 
tues fhall  be  rewarded  ;  and  your  father's  forrow  fhall 
be  turned  to  joy.  You  fay  you  have  two  brothers, 
whom  you  came  to  ranfom.  What  are  their  names  ? 
Perhaps  they  now  are  free. 

Francifco,     Ozro  and  Amandar. 

Hamet.  Your  bufmefs  is  accomplifhed.  They  have 
their  liberty.     Each  minute  I  expecSt  them  here. 

Francifco.  O  kind  reverfe !  Francifco,  thou  fhalt 
be  happy. 

Hamet.  Francifco  !  did  he  fay  ?  Good  heavens  \ 
Can  it  be  he  !  {_Afide.~\  Art  thou  Francifco  ? 

Francifco.  That  is  my  father's  name.  I  am  Fran- 
cifco the  younger. 

Hamet.  Thou  art  !  O  my  delivering  angel !  Doft 
thou  know  thy  Hamet  ? 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 1 7 

Francijco,     It  cannot  be  !  Sure  Fm  entranced. 

\_Lookwg  earnejlly  at  Hamet. 

Hamet,  Come  to  my  arms  !  I  am  thy  friend,  thy 
Hamet.     {_Hamet  rifes.     Francifco  meets  him  pinioned, 

Francijco.     Thou  art  the  fame  !  the  beft  of  men. 

\Emhracing, 
Enter  OzRO  and  Amandar   cU  a  dijlance^  attended  by 

guards.     They  advance  jlowly^  looking  at  each  other  and 

at  Hamet ^  infufpenfe, 

Hamet.  [Unloofing  Francifco^ s pinions.']  Off,  fliame- 
ful  bands !  Thefe  ill  become  thee  !  Thy  hands  arc 
worthy  of  a  fceptre.  Twice  thou  hail  freed  me  from 
the  chains  of  bondage.  Thus  I,  in  part,  difcharge 
the  debt.  [^Ozro  and  Amandar  dif cover  Francifco  and 
run  to  embrace  hi?n.2 

Ozro.     O  Francifco  ! 

Amandar,     My  brother  !      [They  embrace  each  other, 

Francifco.  Welcome  to  my  arms  again  !  Bounteous 
Heaven !  thy  fmiles  have  pierced  the  cloud,  and 
changed  the  night  to  day.  Next  to  Heaven,  Hamet 
deferves  our  thanks. 

Ozro  and  Amandar.     As  firft  on  earth  he  has  them.. 

Hamet,  I  am  the  debtor.  Heaven  has  given  me  a 
grateful  heart  :  but  it  is  to  you,  Francifco,  I  owe  my 
fortune  and  my  honor,  and  have  it  in  my  power  to 
fhow  my  gratitude.  Had  it  not  been  for  you,  I  might 
till  now  have  been  a  flave  in  Venice. 

Teague,  On  my  life,  I  would  live  and  die  here  all 
my  days,  if  all  the  people  were  like  this  fame  good 
Hamet.  \Afide. 

Zanga,  They  fail  fo  pleaf^ntly,  I  muft  fall  in  with 
them  after  all.  ( AJtde.)  Takes  a  chejly  containing  the 
money  and  jeivels  of  Francifco^  arid  carries  it  to  him.'] 
Good  Sir,  I  have  been  brought  up  to  the  trade  of  fight- 
ing ;  this,  you  know.  Sir,  is  not  an  employment  to  (oft- 
en one's  heart.  I  have  generally  been  obliged  to  reiift 
the  current  of  compaflion  ;  but  it  fets  fo  ftrong  upon 
me  now,  I  will  e'en  follow  its  motion,  as  you  have  been 
pleafed  to  lead  the  way.     Here  is  this  man's  money  : 


1 1 8         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

I  give  up  my  Ihare  both  in  that  and  him  too  ;  and  wifh 
him  and  his  good  friends  a  pleafanr  gale  upon  what- 
ever courfe  they  may  fteer  through  Hfe. 

Hatnet.  This  deed  becomes  thee,  Zanga,  and  fhall 
hereafter  be  rewarded. 

Francjfco,  Zanga,  thou  haft  my  thanks.  Let  me 
anticipate  the  joyous  hour  when  our  aged  father  fhall 
hear  the  tranfa<Stions  of  this  day  ;  and  exprefs  in  his 
name  the  effulions  of  his  grateful  heart,  when  he  fhall 
receive  his  fons  from  you  as  the  author  of  their  fecond 
exiftence  ;  their  delivery  from  the  heavy  chains  of 
bondage.  [To  Hamet. 

Hamct.  By  untoward  fortune,  my  father  and  my- 
felf  were  flaves  in  Venice.  By  your  interceffion  I  was 
emancipated.  I  cheerfully  procured  the  freedom  of 
a  declining  parent  at  the  expenfe  of  my  own.  The 
thought  of  relieving  him  from  a  burden,  which  his 
tottering  age  was  unable  to  fupport,  fweetened  my 
toil,  and  made  that  fervitude  a  pleafure,  which  other- 
wife  had  been  intolerable.  But  the  generofity  of  your 
family  exceeded  what  I  dared  to  hope.  You  gratui- 
toufly  reftored  me  to  liberty  a  fecond  time.  This  was 
the  morning  of  my  profperity,  the  birth-day  of  my 
happinefs.  It  is  by  your  means,  I  have  it  in  my  pow- 
er thus  to  acknowledge  and  difcharge  a  facred  debt, 
the  debt  of  gratitude. 

0%ro.  This  day  more  than  compenfates  for  our  paft 
misfortunes. 

Amatidar.  Henceforth  we  will  celebrate  its  anni- 
verfary  in  grateful  remembrance  of  our  benefactor. 

Harriet.  Generous  brothers,  enjoy  your  fortune,  and 
let  your  father  participate  your  happinefs.  A  fhip  fhall 
be  prepared  to  convey  you  to  your  native  land,  and 
reftore  you  to  your  friends.  Let  it  be  remembered, 
there  is  no  luxury  fo  exquifite  as  the  exercife  of  hu- 
manity, and  no  poft  fo  honourable  as  his,  who  defends 
THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  \Exetmt  omnes. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  119 


Conclusion  of  a  celebrated  Speech  of 
Mr.  Pitt,  in  1770,  in  Support  of  a  Motion 
MADE  IN  Parliament,  to  request  the  King  to 

LAY  before  that  BoDY,  ALL  THE  PaPERS,  REL- 
ATIVE TO  certain  Depredations  of  the  Span- 
iards, and  likewise  to  a  Treaty,  which  he 
WAS  then  negociating  with  Spain. 

My  Lords, 

IHAVE-taken  a  wide  circuit,  and  trefpafled,  I  fear, 
too  long  upon  your  patience.  Yet  I  cannot  con- 
clude without  endeavoring  to  bring  home  your  thoughts 
to  an  objecSl  more  immediately  interefting  to  us,  than 
any  I  have  yet  confidered  :  I  mean  the  internal  condi- 
tion of  this  country.  We  may  look  abroad  for  wealth, 
or  triumphs,  or  luxury  ;  but  England,  my  lords,  is  the 
main  ftay,  the  laft  refort  of  the  whole  empire.  To  this 
point,  every  fcheme  of  policy,  whether  foreign  or  do- 
meftic,  fh')uld  ultimately  refer. 

Have  any  meafures  been  taken  to  fatisfy,  or  to  unite 
the  people  ?  Are  the  grievances  they  have  fo  long 
complained  of  removed  ?  or  do  they  ftand  not  only 
unredrelTed,  but  aggravated  ?  Is  the  right  of  free  elec- 
tion reftored  to  the  eledlive  body  ?  My  lords,  I  my- 
felf  am  one  of  the  people.  I  efteem  that  fecurity 
and  independence,  which  is  the  original  birthright  of 
an  Englilhman,  far  beyond  the  privileges,  however 
fplendid,  which  arc  annexed  to  the  peerage.  I  myfelf 
am  by  birth  an  Englifli  ele£lor,  and  join  with  the 
freeholders  of  England  as  in  a  common  caufe.  Believe 
me,  my  lords,  we  miftake  our  real  intereft  as  much  as 
our  duty,  when  we  feparate  ourfclves  from  the  mafs  of 
the  people. 

Can  it  be  expe£\ed  that  Engliflimen  \v  ill  unite  heart- 
ily in  defence  of  a  government,  by  which  they  feel  them- 
felves  kifulted  and  opprefled  ?  Reftore  them  to  their 


I20         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

rights  ;  that  is  the  true  way  to  make  them  unanimous. 
It  is  not  aceremoniousrecommendationfromthethrone, 
that  can  bring  back  peace  and  harmony  to  a  difcontent- 
ed  people.  That  infipid  annual  opiate  has  been  ad- 
miniftered  fo  long,  that  it  has  loft  its  effc€t.  Some- 
thing iubftantial,  fomething  effectual  muft  be  done. 

The  public  credit  of  the  nation  ftands  next  in  degree 
to  the  rights  of  the  conftitution  ;  it  calls  loudly  for  the 
interpofition  of  Parliament.  There  is  a  fet  of  men, 
my  lords,  in  the  city  of  London,  who  are  known  to 
live  in  riot  and  luxury,  upon  the  plunder  of  the  igno- 
rant, the  innocent,  the  helplefs  ;  upon  that  part  of  the 
community,  which  ftands  moft  in  need  of,  and  beft  de- 
ferves  the  care  and  protection  of  the  legiflature.  To 
me,  my  lords,  whether  they  be  miferable  jobbers  of 
Exchange  Alley,  or  the  lofty  Afiatic  plunderers  of 
Leadenhall-ftreet,  they  are  all  equally  deteftable.  I 
care  but  little  whether  a  man  walks  on  foot,  or  is 
drawn  by  eight  or  fix  horfes.  If  his  luxury  be  fup- 
ported  by  the  plunder  of  his  country,  I  defpife  and 
deteft  him. 

My  lords,  while  I  had  the  honor  of  ferving  his  Maj- 
efty,  I  never  ventured  to  look  at  the  treafury  but  at  a 
diftance ;  it  is  a  bufinefs  I  am  unfit  for,  and  to  which 
I  never  could  have  fubmitted.  The  little  I  know  of 
it  has  not  ferved  to  raife  my  opinion  of  what  is  vul- 
garly called  the  monied  interejl ;  I  mean  that  blood- 
fucker,  that  muck-worm,  which  calls  itfelf  the  friend 
of  government  \  that  pretends  to  ferve  this  or  that  ad- 
miniftration,  and  may  be  purchafed,  on  the  fame  terms, 
by  any  adminiftration  ;  that  advances  money  to  gov- 
ernment, and  takes  fpecial  care  of  his  own  emoluments. 

I  hope,  my  lords,  that  nothing  I  have  faid  will  be 
Underftood  to  extend  to  the  honeft,  induftrious  tradef- 
man,  who  holds  the  middle  rank,  and  has  given  re- 
peated proofs,  that  he  prefers  law  and  liberty  to  gold. 
I  love  that  clafs  of  men.  Much  lefs  would  I  be  thought 
to  refled  upon  the  fair  merchant,,  whofe  liberal  com- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 2  e 

merce  is  the  prime  fource  of  national  wealth.     I  efteem 
his  occupation,  and  refpe^t  his  charadler. 

My  lords,  if  the  general  reprefentation  which  I  have 
had  the  honor  to  lay  before  you,  of  the  fituation  of 
public  affairs,  has  in  any  meafure  engaged  your  atten- 
tion, your  lordlliips,  I  am  fure,  will  agree  with  me, 
that  the  feafon  calls  for  more  than  common  prudence 
and  vigour  in  the  direction  of  your  councils.  The  dif- 
jficulty  of  the  crills  demands  a  wife,  a  firm,  and  a  popu- 
lar adminiftration.  The  dilhonorable  traffic  of  places 
ha«i  engaged  us  too  long.  Upon  this  fubjeiSt,  my  lords, 
I  fpeak  without  interedor  enmity.  I  have  no  perfonal 
obje^lion  to  any  of  the  king's  fervants.  I  fhall  never 
be  minifter  ;  certainly,  not  without  full  power  to  cut 
away  all  the  rotten  branches  of  government.  Yet,  un- 
concerned as  I  truly  am  for  myfelf,  I  cannot  avoid  fee- 
ing fome  capital  errors  in  the  diftribution  of  the  royal 
favour. 

I  know  I  fhall  be  accufed  of  attempting  to  revive 
diftin(Stions.  My  lords,  if  it  were  pofhble,  I  would  abol- 
ifh  all  diftindtions.  I  Nvould  not  wilh  the  favours  of 
the  crown  to  flow  invariably  in  one  channel.  But  there 
are  fome  diftindlions  which  are  inherent  in  the  nature 
of  things.  There  is  a  diflimftion  between  right  and 
wrong  ;  between  whig  and  tory. 

When  I  fpeak  of  an  adminiftration,  fuch  as  the  ne.- 
cefHty  of  the  feafon  calls  for,  my  views  are  large  and 
comprehenfive.  It  muft  be  popular,  that  it  may  begia 
with  reputation.  It  muft  be  ftrong  within  itfelf,  that 
it  may  proceed  with  vigour  and  decifion.  An  admin* 
iftration,  formed  upon  an  exclufive  fyftem  of  family- 
connexions,  or  private  friendfliips,  cannot,  I  am  con^ 
vinced,  be  long  fupported  in  this  country. 

I  fliall  trouble  your  lordfhips  with  but  a  few  wordg 
more.  His  Majefty  tells  us  in  his  fpeech,  that  he  will 
call  upon  us  for  our  advice,  if  it  fhould  be  necefTary  in 
the  farther  progrefs  of  this  affair.  It  is  not  eafy  to  fay 
whether  or  not  the  miniftry  are  ferious  in  this  declar- 
.ratiion  ;  nor  what  is  meant  by  the  progrefs  of  ao  afFah*; 


I  ^2  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

which  refts  upon  one  fixed  point.  Hitherto  we  have 
not  been  called  upon.  But  though  we  are  not  con- 
fulted,  it  is  our  right  and  duty,  as  the  king's  great,  he- 
reditary council  to  offer  him  our  advice.  The  papers, 
mentioned  in  the  noble  Duke's  motion,  will  enable  us 
to  form  a  jufl:  and  accurate  opinion  of  the  conduft  of 
his  Majefty's  fervants,  though  not  of  the  adual  ftate 
^  of  their  honorable  negociations. 

The  miniftry,  too,  feem  to  want  advice  upon  fome 
points,  in  which  their  own  fafety  is  immediately  con- 
cerned. They  are  now  balancing  between  a  war, 
which  they  ought  to  have  forefeen  -,  but  for  which 
they  have  made  no  provifion,  and  an  ignominious  com- 
proiTiife.  Let  me  warn  them  of  their  danger.  If  they 
are  forced  into  a  war,  they  ftand  it  at  the  hazard  of 
their  heads.  If,  by  an  ignominious  compromife,  they 
fliould  ilain  the  honor  of  the  crown,  or  facrifice  the 
rights  of  the  people,  let  them  look  to  their  confcienceS| 
and  coniider  whether  they  will  be  able  to  walk  the 
ftreets  in  fafety. 


Socrates'  Defence  before  his  Accuser^ 
AND  Judges. 

I  AM  accufed  of  corrupting  the  youth,  and  of  inftill- 
ing  dangerous  principles  into  them,  as  well  in  re- 
gard to  the  worfhip  of  the  gods,  as  the  rulers  of  gov- 
ernment. You  know,  Athenians,  I  never  made  it  my 
profeffwn  to  teach  ;  nor  can  envy,  however  violent 
aiTainll  me,  reproach  me  with  having  ever  fold  my  in- 
ftruclions.  I  have  an  undeniable  evidence  for  me  ia 
this  refpeft,  which  is  my  poverty.  Always  equally 
ready  to  communicate  my  thoughts  either  to  the  rich 
or  poor,  and  to  give  them  entire  leifure  to  queftion  or 
anfwer  me,  I  lend  myfelf  to  every  one  who  is  defirous 
of  becoming  virtuous  ;  and  if  amonft  thofe  who  hear 
me,  there  are  any  who  prove  eitheir  good  or  bad,  nei- 
ther the  virtues  of  the  one,  nor  the  vices  of  the  other. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 23 

to  which  I  have  not  contributed,  are  to  be  afcribed 
to  me. 

My  whole  employment  is  to  perfuade  the  young 
and  old  againft  too  much  love  for  the  body,  for  riches, 
and  all  other  precarious  things  of  whatfoever  nature 
they  be,  and  againft  too  little  regard  for  the  foul,  whicli 
ought  to  be  the  objeiTt:  of  their  affedlion.  For  I  in- 
cefTantly  urge  to  you,  that  virtue  does  not  proceed  from 
riches,  but  on  the  contrary,  riches  from  virtue  ;  and 
that  all  the  other  goods  of  human  life,  as  well  public 
as  private,  have  their  fource  in  tlie  fame  principle. 

If  to  fpeak  in  this  manner  be  to  corrupt  youth,  I 
confefs,  Athenians,  that  I  am  guilty,  and  deferve  to  be 
punifhed.  If  what  I  fay  be  not  true,  it  is  moft  eafy  to 
convi(Sl  me  of  my  falfehood.  I  fee  here  a  great  num- 
ber of  my  difciples  :  they  have  only  to  appear.  But 
perhaps  the  referve  and  confideration  for  a  mafler,  who 
has  inilrucled  them,  will  prevent  them  from  declaring 
againft  me  :  at  leaft  their  fathers,  brothers,  and  uncles^ 
cannot,  as  good  relations,  and  good  citizens,  difpenfe 
with  their  not  ftanding  forth  to  demand  vengeance 
againft  the  corrupter  of  their  fons,  brothers,  and  ne- 
phews. But  thefe  are  the  perfons  who  take  upon  them 
my  defence,  and  intereft  themfelves  in  the  fuccefs  of 
my  caufe. 

Pafs  on  me  what  fentence  you  pleafe,  Athenians; 
but  I  can  neither  repent  nor  change  my  condudl.  I 
muft  not  abandon  or  fufpend  a  fun<flion,  which  God 
himfelf  has  impofed  on  me,  ftnce  he  has  charged  me 
with  the  care  of  inftrudling  my  feilow-gitizens.  If, 
after  having  faithfully  kept  all  the  ports,  wherein  I 
was  placed  by  our  generals,  the  fear  of  death  fhould  at 
this  time  make  me  abandon  that  in  which  the  Divine 
Providence  has  placed  me,  by  commanding  me  to  pafs 
my  life  in  the  ftudy  of  philofophy,  for  the  inftrudtion 
of  myfelf  and  others  ;  this  would  be  a  moft  criminal 
defertion  indeed,  and  make  me  highly  worthy  of  be- 
ing cited  before-this  tribunal,  as  an  impious  man  wlio 
does  not  believe  the  sods. 


J  24         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Should  you  refolve  to  acquit  me  for  the  future,  I' 
fliould  not  hefitate  to  make  anfwer,  Athenians,  I  honor 
and  love  you  ;  but  I  fliall  choofe  rather  to  obey  God 
than  you  ;  and  to  my  lateO"  breath  ilial!  never  renounce 
my  philofophy,  nor  ceafe  to  exhort  and  reprove  you 
according  to  my  cuftom.  I  am  reproached  with  abjedl 
fear  and  meannefs  of  fpirit,  for  being  fo  bufy  in  im- 
i,)arting  my  advice  to  every  one  in  private,  and  for 
having  always  avoided  to  be  prefent  in  your  afTcmblies,, 
to  give  my  counfels  to  my  country.  I  think  1  have 
-iuffiA-iently  proved  my  courage  and  fortitude,  both  in,.  J 
tlic  fieldj  where  I  Iiave  borne  arms  with  you,  and  irt-  " 
the  Senate,  when  I  alone,  upon  more  than  one  occa- 
sion, oppofed  the  violent  and  cruel  orders  of  the  thirty 
tyrants.  What  is  it  then  that  has  prevented  me  from 
appearing  in  your  aflemblies  .'*  It  is  that  demon,  that 
voice  divine,  which  you  have  fo  often  heard  me  men- 
tion, and  Melitus  has  taken  fo  much  pains  to  ridicule. 

That  fpirit  has  attached  itfelf  to  me  from  my  infan- 
cy :  it  is  a  voice,  which  1  never  hear,  but  when  it  would 
prevent  me  from  periifting  in  fomething  I  have  refolv- 
ad  ;  for  it  never  exhorts  me  to  undertake  any  thing.  It 
is  the  fame  being  that  has  always  oppofed  me,  when  I 
would  have  intermeddled  in  the  affairs  of  the  republic  ; 
and  that  with  the  greateft  reafon  ;  for  I  fhould  have 
been  amongfl  the  dead  long  ago,  had  I  been  concerned 
in  the  meafures  of  the  ftate,  without  effecting  any  thing 
to  the  advantage  of  myfelf,  or  our  country. 

Do  not  take  it  ill,  I  befeech  you,  if  I  fpeak  my 
thoughts  without  difguife,  and  with  truth  and  freedom. 
Every  man  who  would  generoufly  oppofe  a  whole  peo- 
ple, either  amongfl:  us  or  elfewhere,  and  who  Inflexibly 
applies  himfelf  to  prevent  the  violation  of  the  laws,  and 
the  pra<Slice  of  iniquity  in  a  government,  will  never  do 
fo  long  with  impunity.  It  is  abfolutely  necefTary  for 
him,  who  would  contend  for  juftice,  if  he  has  any 
thoughts  of  living,  to  remain  In  a  private  ftation,  and 
never  to  have  any  fliare  in  public  affairs.- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 25 

For  the  reft,  Athenians,  If,  in  the  extreme  danger  I 
now  am,  I  do  not  imitate  the  behavior  of  thofe,  who, 
upon  lefs  emergencies,  have  implored  and  fupplicated 
their  judges  with  tears,  and  have  brought  forth  their 
children,  relations,  and  friends,  it  is  not  through  pride 
or  obftinacy,  or  any  contempt  for  you ;  but  folely  for 
your  honor,  and  for  that  of  the  whole  city.  At  my 
age,  and  with  the  reputation,  true  or  falfe,  which  I 
have,  would  it  be  coniiftent  for  me,  after  all  the  lefTons 
I  have  given  upon  the  contempt  of  death,  to  be  afraid 
of  It  myfelf,  and  to  belie  in  my  laft  a6tion  all  the  prin- 
ciples and  fentiments  of  my  paft  life  ? 

But  without  fpeaking  of  my  fame,  which  I  fliould 
extremely  injure  by  fuch  a  condu^,  I  do  not  think  it 
allowable  to  entreat  a  judge,  nor  to  be  abfolvcd  by  fup- 
pllcations :  he  ought  to  be  perfuaded  and  convinced. 
The  judge  does  not  fit  upon  the  bench  to  fhow  favour 
by  violating  the  laws  ;  but  to  do  juftice  in  conforming 
to  them.  He  does  not  fwear  to  difcharge  with  impu- 
nity whom  he  pleafes  •,  but  to  do  juftice  where  it  is 
due.  We  ought  not  therefore  to  accuilom  you  to 
perjury,  nor  you  to  fufFer  yourfelves  to  be  accuftomed 
to  it  ;  for  in  fo  doing,  both  the  one  an  the  other  of 
us  equally  injure  juftice  and  religion,  and  both  are 
criminals. 

Do  not  therefore  expedl  from  me,  Athenians,  that 
I  fhould  have  recourfe  to  means  which  I  believe  nei- 
ther honeft  nor  lawful  ;  efpecially  upon  this  occafion, 
wherein  I  am  accufed  of  impiety  by  Melitus.  For, 
if  I  fhould  influence  you  by  my  prayers,  and  thereby 
induce  you  to  violate  your  oaths,  it  would  be  unde- 
niably evident,  that  I  teach  you  not  to  believe  in  the 
gods  ;  and  even  in  defending  and  juftifying  myfelf, 
fhould  furnifh  my  adverfaries  with  arms  againfl  me, 
and  prove  that  I  believe  no  divinity.  But  I  am  very 
far  from  fuch  wicked  thoughts.  I  am  more  convinced 
of  the  exiftence  of  God  than  my  accufers  *,  and  fo  cdn- 
vinced,  that  I  abandon  myfelf  to  God  and  you,  that 
you  may  judge  of  me  as  you  fhall  think  it  befl. 

1-2 


1 26         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 
Dialogue   on   Cowardice  and  Knavert. 


CHARACTERS. 

Hector,  ^n  OJiser  cajhlered for  Co-wardke. 

Hamburgh,  A  fra udulent  Bankrupt. 

Simon,  A  Paivn-Broker. 

Trustv,  In  Difguifc,   acquainted  iL'tib  alL 

(Sitting  together  ;  fome  luitb  Segars.J 

SCENE,  A  Tavenu 

E?iter  Landlord. 

Lamllord   f^  ENELEMEN,  you  all  come  different 
\^jr  ways  J  and  I  s'pofe  are  Grangers  •,  but 
may  be,  you'd  like  to  cut  and  come  again  upon  a  roaPc 
turkey  with  good  trimmings. 

Tnt/Iy.  With  all  my  heart.  I'd  play  knife  and 
fork  even  with  a  cut-throat  over  fuch  a  fupper  :  and  I 
dare  fay,  you'll  find  none  of  us  cowards  or  bankrupts 
in  that  bufinefs. 

Upjlart  Hectos.,  Hameuugh,  a7id  Simon. 

All  three,     [ToTruJly.'],     Do  you  call  me  names,  Sir  ? 

Trtijly,      Gentlemen,  I  meant  no  perfonalities. 

HeElor.  \Puts  his  hand  to  his  f'Suord.']  But  you  call- 
ed me  a  coward,  you  rafcal. 

Hamh.  iTakes  off  his  coatr^  You  called  me  a  banb- 
rupt,  you  knave. 

^imon,  \I)ouhles  his  fijl."]  You  called  me  cut-throat, 
you  villain. 

Trufiy.  I  told  you  all,  I  meant  no  perfonalities  5 
but  [To  HeBor]  pray  what  are  you  ? 

Hector.     Albldier,toyourforrow.  Fear  and  trembly. 

Trtijly.     {To  Hamhiirgh.']     Pray  what  are  you.? 

Hamb,     A  merchant. 

Trujly,    [To  Simon.']    And  what  are  you  ? 

Simon.     A  banker. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 27 

Trtijiy.  Then  if  you  are  fuch  as  foldlers,  merchants, 
and  bankers  ought  to  be,  I  could  not  mean  you  ;  oth- 
erwife  you  may  take  the  words  cut-throat,  bankrupt, 
and  coward,  and  divide  'em  among  you.  And  as  to 
knave,  rafcal,  and  villain,  I  return  them  to  the  right 
owners. 

Heclor.  Gentlemen,  (land  by.  I'll  fight  for  you  all. 
[^Draivs  and  turns  to  Trtifly.']  I  challenge  you  to  fight 
me. 

Land.  Poh  !  challenge  him  to  eat  with  you ;  the 
fupper's  waiting. 

HeFtor.  [To  Landlord. '\  Don't  interfere.  Sir  ;  here's 
ferious  work  \  blood  will  be  Tpilt. 

Trujly.  Well,  fpill  your  own  then :  I  have  no  no- 
tion of  having  my  veins  pricked. 

HeElor.  Choofe  your  mode  of  fighting  inftantly,  or 
fall  beneath  this  fword,  which  has  drank  the  blood  of 
thoufands. 

Trtifly,  Well,  if  I  muft  fight,  my  mode  will  be  to 
ufe  that  fword  five  minutes  upon  your  body  :  then  you 
fhall  ufe  it  upon  me  as  long,  and  fo  we  will  take  turns. 

HeBor.     You  inflame  my  choler. 

Trujly.     Then  unpin  your  collar. 

Hehor.     I  fhall  burft  with  rage. 

Trujly.     Then  we  (hall  have  one  lefs  at  table. 

Hehor.  \_Brand'JIjes  his  Jiuord.}  Are  you  prepai'ed 
for  your  exit  ? 

Trujly.     I  am.  ^Exit 

Hector.  Now  he  Is  gone  to  arm  himfelf  with  pano- 
ply, to  meet  this  valorous  fword.  Guard  me»  ye  pow- 
ers !  who,  in  the  day  of  battle,  'mid  clafliing  fwords 
and  all  the  thunder  of  my  father  Mars,  have  been  my 
fhield  and  buckler.  Now  I  am  ready  for  him  :  why 
does  he  not  return  } 

Land.  He's  gone  to  fupper.  This  Is  an  eating 
houfe,  not  a  fighting  houfe.     Sheath  your  fword. 

HeBor.  [^Sheaths. ~\  There,  fword,  fmother  thy 
rage  till  fome  dauntlefs  adverfary  fhall  call  thee  out ; 
then  feek  his  heart  and  make  report  of  victory. 

\Epimnt  ornms* 


J  28         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Interval  five  minutes. 
Enter  Trusty  and  Landlord. 

La?id.  I  take  that  officer-looking  man  to  be  Colonel 
Home,  one  of  the  braveft  men  in  the  army. 

Trujly.  Colonel  Home  and  he  are  very  different 
characters.  That  wretch  was  but  an  enfign,  and  was 
cafhiered  for  cowardice. 

Land.  Is  that  poffible  ."*  Why  he  told  me  himfelf 
that  he  had  alone  furprifed  a  whole  regiment  and  cut 
them  in  pieces  •,  and  that  all  the  army  ftood  in  awe  of 
him. 

Triijiy.  Well,  you  may  depend  on  what  I  tell  you  : 
and  the  one  that  fits  next  to  him  is  a  bankrupt,  wha 
has  been  guilty  of  every  fhameful  praiTtice  to  defraud 
his  creditors ;  and  the  other  is  a  bafe  pawn-broker, 
who  has  got  all  the  property  of  this  bankrupt  in  his 
hands  for  concealment. 

La7id,     You  furprife  me  !  Why  that  bankrupt,  as 
you  call  him,  was  juft  now  telling  the  other,  how  he 
was  afraid  the  late  ftorms  at  fea  might  affe£l  his  {hip- 
ping ;  and  the  other  was  offering  to  infure  them. 
Enter  Hector,  Hamburgh,  and  Simon* 

HeElor.  {To  Trujiy.']  Since  my  wrath  is  a  little 
abated,  I  am  perfuaded  you  meant  no  offence  *,  but 
look  ye.  Sir,  if  any  man  was  ferioufly  to  difpute  my 
courage,  you  fee  my  fword  ! 

Trtijy.     I  fee  it. 

HeBor.     And  don't  you  fear  it  ? 

Tiriijly.  No  ;  nor  its  owner.  {HeElor  offers  to  dratv^ 
Forbear,  or  "  I  will  tell  a  tale  will  make  it  blufli." 

{HeBor  fneaks  off. 

Hamb.  {To  Trujly.  I  am  not  difpofed,  Sir,  to  be- 
lieve that  you  meant  me  by  any  expreffion  you  made, 
as  to  coward  and  cut-throat :  they  certainly  don't  be- 
long to  me.  And  as  to  bankrupt,  the  four  winds  caa 
give  the  lie  ,to  fuch  a  charge. 

Trtifty.  They  covild  give  but  nvindy  teftimony  in 
your  favour. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


2f 


Hamb.  Then  I  appeal  to  this  worthy  gentleman, 
[Speahifig  of  Simon']  and  an  honefter  man  lives  not  on 
earth,  if  I  have  not  thoufands  in  his  hands.  • 

Simofi.  \_Afide  to  Hamb.']  You  had  better  leave  i^ 
to  the  four  winds. 

Hamb.  \_Loud  and  hajlily.]  Have  I  not  monies  of 
a  great  amount  in  your  hands  ? 

Simon.  Did  you  not  take  an  oath,  a  few  days  fince^ 
that  you  had  not,  diredlly  nor  indire<Stly,  five  pounds 
on  earth  .'* 

Hamb.  Yes.  I  had  not  on  earth  /  but  it  was  then 
in  your  coffers,  and  you  know  it. 

Simon.  If  your  oath  that  you  had  no  property  can*t 
be  relied  on,  why  fhould  your  word  be  taken,  that  you 
have  ? 

Hamb.  But  I  afk  you,  have  you  not  my  property 
in  your  hands  ^ 

Simon.  Not  a  farthing.  You  are  a  bankrupt  foc 
thoufands,  and  the  four  winds  may  tell  of  that.. 

Hamb.     O  knavery  ! 

Simon.     O  perjury  ! 

Trujly.  You  are  perfe(f^ly  welcome  to  ule  the  words 
I  juft  now  tofTed  out  to  you ;  and  it  appears  to  me, 
they  are  a  very  proper  currency  between  you. 

Hamb.  O  that  I  had  the  money  out  of  that  wretch'js 
hands,  to  give  to  my  honeft  creditors  ! 

Simon.  O  that  I  had  the  characSter,  which  I  have 
loft  by  my  connexion  with  you  I 

Trujly.  I  am  forry  for  the  depravity  of  you  both. 
It  has  led  you  to  deceive  honeft  men,  and  to  betray 
each  other.  You  have  now  learned  the  value  of  repu- 
tation and  peace  of  mind,  by  the  lofs  of  them.  Let 
your  future  days  be  days  of  atonement.  Let  them  be 
devoted  to  honefty  and  fair  dealing  ;  and  ever  remem- 
ber that  integrity  is  the  only  road  to  defirable  wealth, 
and  that  the  path  of  virtue  is  alone  the  path  of  peace. 


J30         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Mr.  Sheridan's  Speech  against  Ma, 
Taylor. 

WE  have  this  day  been  honored  with  the  couft- 
fels  of  a  complete  gradation  of  lawyers.  We 
have  received  the  opinion  of  a  Judge,  of  an  Attorney- 
General,  of  an  Ex- Attorney- General,  and  of  a  prac- 
tifing  Barrifier.  I  agree  with  the  learned  gentleman 
in  his  admiration  of  the  abilities  of  my  honorable 
friend,  Mr.  Fox.  What  he  has  faid  of  his  quicknefs 
and  of  his  profoundnefs,  of  his  boldnefs  and  his  candor, 
is  literally  juft  and  true,  which  the  mental  accomplifh- 
ment  of  my  honorable  friend  is,  on  every  occafion,  cal- 
ealculated  to  extort  even  from  his  adverfaries. 

The  learned  gentleman  has,  however,  in  this  infidi- 
ous  eulogium,  connected  fuch  qualities  of  mind  with 
thofe  he  has  praifed  and  venerated,  as  to  convert  his 
encomiums  into  reproach,  and  his  tributes  of  praife 
into  cenfure  and  inve<ftive.  The  boldnefs  he  has  de- 
fcribed  is  only  craft,  and  his  candor  hypocrify.  Upon 
what  grounds  does  the  learned  gentleman  conne<Sl  thofc 
aflemblages  of  great  qualities  and  of  cardinal  defeats  ? 
Upon  what  principles, either  of  juftice  or  of  equity,  does 
he  exult  with  one  hand,  whilft  he  infidioufly  repro- 
bates and  deftroys  with  the  other  ? 

If  the  wolf  is  to  be  feared,  the  learned  gentleman 
may  reft  afTured,  it  will  be  the  wolf  in  flieep's  clothing, 
the  mafked  pretender  to  patriotifm.  It  is  not  from  the 
fang  of  the  lion,  but  from  the  tooth  of  the  ferpent, 
that  reptile  which  infidioufly  fteals  upon  the  vitals  of 
the  conftitution,  and  gnaws  it  to  the  heart,  ere  the  mif- 
chief  is  fufpedled,  that  deftru(Stion  is  to  be  feared. 

With  regard  to  the  acquiiition  of  a  learned  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Taylor,  who  has  declared  that  he  means  to 
vote  with  us  this  day,  I  am  forry  to  acknowledge,  that 
from  the  declaration  he  has  made  at  the  beginning  of 
his  rpeech,  I  fee  no  great  reafon  to  boaft  of  fuch  an 
auxiliary.     The  learned  gentleman,  who  h^  with  pe-^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  i^f 

euliar  modefty  ftyled  himfelf  a  chicken  lawyer^  has  de- 
clared, that,  thinking  us  in  the  right  with  refpedl  to 
the  fubje<Sl  of  this  day's  difcuflion,  he  Ihall  vote  with 
us ;  but  he  has  at  the  fame  time  thought  it  neceflary 
to  afferr,  that  he  has  never  before  voted  differently 
from  the  minifter  and  his  friends,  and  perhaps  he  never 
fhall  again  vote  with  thofe  whom  he  means  to  fupport 
this  day. 

It  is  rather  fingular  to  vote  with  us,  profefTedly  be- 
caufe  he  finds  us  to  be  in  the  right,  and,  in  the  very 
moment  that  he  afligns  fo  good  a  reafon  for  changing 
his  fide,  to  declare,  that  in  all  probability  he  never  fhall 
vote  with  us  again.  I  am  forry  to  find  the  chicken  is 
a  bird  of  ill  omen,  and  that  its  augury  is  fo  unpropi- 
tious  to  our  future  interefls.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
been  as  well,  under  thefe  circumllances,  that  the  chick- 
en had  not  left  the  barn-door  of  the  treafury ;  but 
continued  fide  by  fide  with  the  old  cock,  to  pick  thofe 
crumbs  of  comfort  which  would  doubtlefs  be  dealt  out 
in  time,  with  a  liberality  proportioned  to  the  fidelity 
of  the  feathered  tribe. 


Part  of  Cicero^s  Oration  against  Cat- 
iline. 

IT  is  now  a  long  time,  confcript  fathers,  that  wc 
have  trod  amidft:  the  dangers  and  machinations  of 
this  confpiracy :  but  I  know  not  how  it  comes  to  pafs, 
the  full  maturity  of  all  thofe  crimes,  and  of  this  long- 
ripening  rage  and  infolence,  has  now  broken  out  dur- 
ing the  period  of  my  confiilihip.  Should  Catiline 
alone  be  removed  from  this  powerful  band  of  traitors, 
,it  may  abate,  perhaps,  our  fears  and  anxieties  for  a 
while ;  but  the  danger  will  ftill  remain,  and  continue 
lurking  in  the  veins  and  vitals  of  the  republic. 

For,  as  men,  opprefled  with  a  fevere  fit  of  illneis, 
and  labouring  under  the  raging  heat  of  a  fever,  are 
often  at  fijrft  feemipgly  relieved  by  a  draught  of  cold 


13-2         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

water;  but  afterwards  find  the  dlfeafe  return  upon  them 
with  redoubled  fury ;  in  Hke  manner,  this  diftemper, 
which  has  feized  the  commonwealth,  eafed  a  little  by 
the  puniOiment  of  this  traitor,  will,  from  his  furvivmg 
aflbciates,  foon  aflume  new  force.  Wherefore,  con- 
fcript  fathers,  let  the  wicked  retire  ;  let  them  fepa- 
rate  themftlves  from  the  honeft  ;  let  them  rendezvous 
in  one  place.  In  fine,  as  I  have  often  faid,  let  a  wall 
be  betWv-^en  them  and  us  ;  let  them  ceafe  to  lay  fnares 
for  the  conful  in  his  own  houfe ;  to  befet  the  tribunal 
of  the  city  praetor  •,  to  invefi  the  fenate-houfe  with 
armed  ruffians,  and  to  prepare  fire-balls  and  torches  for 
burning  the  city  :  in  fhort,  let  every  man's  fentiments 
with  regard  to  the  public  be  infcribed  on  his  forehead. 

This  I  engage  for,  and  promife,  confcript  fathers, 
that  by  the  diligence  of  the  confuls,  the  weight  of  your 
authority,  the  courage  and  firmnefs  of  the  Roman 
knights,  and  the  unanimity  of  all  the  honeft,  Catiline 
being  driven  from  the  city,  you  fliall  behold  all  his 
treafons  dete(fted,  expofed,  crufhed,  and  punifhed. 

With  thefe  omens,  Catiline,  of  all  profperity  to  the 
republic,  but  of  deftru6lion  to  thyfelf,  and  all  thofe 
who  have  joined  themfelves  with  thee  in  all  kinds  of 
parricide,  go  thy  way  then  to  this  impious  and  abomi- 
nable war  :  whilft  thou,  Jupiter,  whofe  religion  was 
cftablifhed  with  the  foundation  of  this  city,  whom  wc 
truly  call  Stator,  the  ftay  and  prop  of  this  empire,  wilt 
drive  this  man  and  his  accomplices  from  thy  altars  and 
temples,  from  the  houfes  and  walls  of  the  city,  from 
the  lives  and  fortunes  of  us  all ;  and  wilt  deftroy  with 
eternal  punifhments,  both  living  and  dead,  all  the 
haters  of  good  men,  the  enemies  of  their  country,  the 
plunderers  of  Italy,  now  confederated  in  tkk  dctciish 
h\Q  league  and  partnerftxip  Qf  villainy,. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  133 

Description  of  the  first  American  Con- 
gress ;  FROM  THE  Vision  of  Columbus. 

COLUMBUS  iook'd;  and  ftill  around  them  fpread, 
From  fouth  to  north,  th'  immeaturable  fliade ; 
At  ldi\  the  central  ihadows  bur  ft  away, 
And  rifmg  regions  open'd  on  the  day. 
He  faw,  once  more,  bright  Del'ware's  filver  ftream, 
And  Penn's  throng'd  city  caft  a  cheerful  gleam ; 
The  dome  of  ftate,  that  met  his  eager  eye, 
Now  heav'd  its  arches  in  a  loftier  iky. 
The  burning  gates  unfold  :  and  lo,  within, 
A  folemn  train,  in  confcious  glory,  Ihine. 
The  well-known  forms  his  eye  had  trac'd  before^ 
In  different  realms  along  th'  extended  fhore ; 
Here,  grac'd  with  nobler  fame,-  and  rob'd  in  ftate. 
They  look'd  and  mov'd  magnificently  great. 
High  on  the  foremoft  feat,  \n  living  light, 
Majeftic  Randolph  caught  the  hero's  light : 
Fair  on  his  head,  the  civic  crown  was  plac'd. 
And  the  firll:  dignity  his  fceptre  grac'd. 
He  opes  the  caule,  and  points  in  profpe6l  far, 
Through  all  the  toils  that  wait  th'  impending  war. 
But,  haplefs  fage,  thy  reign  muil  foon  be  o'er, 
To  lend  thy  luftre,  and  to  fliine  no  more. 
So  the  bright  morning-ftar,  from  fliades  of  ev'n, 
Leads  up  the  dawn,  and  lights  the  front  of  heav'n, 
Points  to  the  waking  world  the  fun's  broad  way. 
Then  veils  his  own,  and  fhines  above  the  day. 
And  fee  great  Wafliington  behind  thee  rife. 
Thy  following  fun,  to  gild  our  morning  lilies ; 
O'er  fliadowy  climes  to  pour  th'  enliv'ning  flame, 
The  charms  of  freedom  and  the  fire  of  fame. 
Th'  afcending  chief  adorn'd  his  fplendid  feat. 
Like  Randolph,  enfign'd  with  a  crown  of  ftatc, 
Where  the  green  patriot  bay  beheld,  v;ith  pride. 
The  hero's  laurel  fprinijing  by  its  fide ; 
His  fvvord,  hung  ufelefs,  on  his  graceful  thigh, 
M 


134  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

On  Britain  ftill  he  call:  a  fiilal  eye  ; 
But  fovereign  fortitude  his  vifage  bore, 
To  meet  their  legions  on  th'  invaded  fliore. 

Sage  Franklin  next  arofe,  in  awful  mien, 
And  fmil'd,  unruffled,  o'er  th'  approaching  fcene ; 
High,  on  his  locks  of  age,  a  wreath  was  brac'd, 
Palm  oi  all  arts,  that  e'er  a  mortal  grac'd  ; 
Beneath  him  lies  the  fceptre  kmgs  have  borne, 
And  crowns  and  laurels  from  their  temples  torn. 
Niiili,  Rutledge,  Jefferfon,  in  council  great. 
And  Jay  and  Laurens  op'd  the  rolls  of  fate. 
The  Livingflons,  fair  freedom's  gen'ious  band, 
The  Lees,  the  Houflons,  fathers  of  the  land, 
O'er  climes  and  kingdoms  turn'd  their  ardent  eyes_, 
Bade  all  the  opprefs'd  to  fpeedy  vengeance  rife  j 
All  pow'rs  of  (late  in  their  extended  plan. 
Rife  from  confent  to  fhield  the  rights  of  man. 
Bold  Wolcott  urg'd  the  all-important  caufe  ; 
With  fleady  hand  the  folemn  fcene  he  draws; 
Undaunted  lirmnefs  with  his  wifdom  join'd. 
Nor  kings  nor  worlds  could  warp  his  ftedfaft  mind. 

Now,  graceful  riling  from  his  purple  throne. 
In  radiant  robes,  immortal  Hofmer  Ihone ; 
Myrtles  and  bays  his  learned  temples  bound. 
The  ftatefman's  wreath,  the  poet's  garland  crown'd 
M(Tals  and  laws  expand  his  liberal  foul. 
Beam  from  his  eyes,  and  in  his  accents  roll. 
But  lo  !   an  unfeen  hand  the  curtain  drew, 
And  fnatch'd  the  patriot  from  the  hero's  view ; 
Wrapp'd  in  the  fliroud  of  death,  he  fees  defcend 
The  guide  of  nations  and  the  mufe's  friend. 

o 

Columbus  dropp'd  a  tear.     The  angel's  eye 
Trac'd  the  freed  fpirit  mounting  through  the  Iky. 

Adams,  enrag'd,  a  broken  charter  bore, 
And  lavvlefs  a<9:s  of  minifterial  pow'r  *, 
Some  injur'd  right  in  each  loofe  leaf  appears, 
A  king  in  terrors  and  a  land  in  tears ; 
From  all  the  guileful  plots  the  veil  he  drew, 
"With  eye  retortive  look'd  creation  through ; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  135 

Op'd  the  wide  range  of  nature's  boundlefs  plan, 
Trac'd  all  the  fteps  of  liberty  and  man  ; 
Crowds  rofe  to  vengeance  while  his  accents  rung, 
And  independence  thunder'd  from  his  tongue. 


Speech  of  Buonaparte,  Commander  in 
Chief  of  the  French  Army  in  Italy,  to  his 
Brethren  in  Arms. 

Soldiers, 

YOU  are  precipitated  like  a  torrent  from  tlie 
heights  of  the  Appenines  ;  you  have  overthrown 
and  difperfed  all  that  dared  to  oppofe  your  march. 
Piedmont,  refcued  from  Auftrian  tyranny,  is  left  to  its 
natural  fentiments  of  regard  and  friendlliip  to  the 
French.  Milan  is  yours  ;  and  the  republican  ftandard 
is  difplayed  throughout  all  Lombardy.  The  dukes  of 
Parma  and  Modena  are  indebted  for  their  political  ex- 
iftence  only  to  your  generofity. 

The  army,  which  fo  proudly  menaced  you,  has  had 
no  other  barrier  than  its  diflblution  to  oppofe  your  in- 
vincible courage.  The  Po,  the  FelTen,  the  Adda,  could 
not  retard  you  a  fingle  day.  The  vaunted  bulwarks 
of  Italy  were  infuiEcient.  You  fwept  them  with  the 
fame  rapidity  that  you  did  the  Appenines.  Thofe  fuc- 
ceiTes  have  carried  joy  into  the  bofom  of  your  country. 
Your  reprefentatives  decreed  a  feftival  dedicated  to  your 
vi«Slories,  and  to  be  celebrated  throughout  all  the  com- 
munes of  the  republic.  Now  your  fathers,  your  moth- 
ers, your  wives,  and  your  lifters,  will  rejoice  in  your 
fuccefs,  and  take  pride  in  their  relation  to  you. 

Yes,  foldiers,  you  have  done  much ;  but  more  ftill 
remains  for  you  to  do.  Shall  it  be  faid  of  us,  that  we 
know  how  to  conquer,  but  not  to  profit  by  our  viclo- 
ries  ?  Shall  pofterity  reproach  us  with  having  found  a 
Capua  in  Lombardy  ?  But  already  I  fee  you  fly  to 
arms.  You  are  fatigued  with  an  ina<Slive  repofe.  You 
V  lament  the  days  that  are  loft  to  your  glory  !     Well, 


1 36  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

then,  let  us  proceed  ;  we  have  other  forced  marches  to 
make  j  other  enemies  to  fubdue ;  more  laurels  to  ac- 
auire,  and  more  injuries  to  avenge. 

Let  thofe  who  have  unflieathcd  the  daggers  of  civil 
war  in  France  ;  who  have  bafely  aflaffinated  our  min- 
ifters ;  wlio  have  burnt  our  lliips  at  Toulon  ;  let  them 
tremble  !   the  knell  of  vengeance  has  already  tolled  ! 

But  to  quiet  the  apprehenlions  of  the  people,  we 
declare  ourfelves  the  friends  of  all,  and  particularly  of 
thofe  who  are  the  defcendants  of  Brutus,  of  Scipio, 
and  thofe  other  great  men  whom  we  have  taken  for 
our  models. 

To  re-eftablifh  the  capitol ;  to  replace  the  ftatues 
of  thofe  heroes  who  have  rendered  it  immortal ;  to 
roufe  the  Roman  people  entranced  in  Co  many  ages  of 
flavery ;  this  fhall  be  the  fruit  of  your  vicftories.  It 
will  be  an  epoch  for  the  admiration  of  pofterity ;  you 
will  enjoy  the  immortal  glory  of  changing  the  afpedt 
of  affairs  in  the  fineft  part  of  Europe.  The  free  people 
of  France,  not  regardlefs  of  moderation,  fliall  accord  to 
Europe  a  glorious  peace  ;  but  it  will  indemnify  itfelf 
for  the  facrifices  of  every  kind  which  it  has  been  mak-  / 
ing  for  fix  years  pad.  You  will  again  be  reftored  to 
your  fire-fides  and  homes ;  and  your  fellow-citizens, 
pointing  you  out,  fhall  fay,  "  There  goes  one  who  be- 
longed to  the  army  of  Italy  !" 


Reflections  over  the  Grave  of  a  Young 

Man. 

JERE  lies  the  grief  of  a  fond  motherjand  the  blaft- 
f  ed  expectation  of  an  indulgent  father.  The 
yuutii  grew  up,  like  a  well-watered  plant  -,  he  fhot 
deep,  rofe  high,  and  bade  fair  for  manhood.  Butjuft 
as  the  cedar  began  to  tov/er,  and  promifed  ere  long  to 
be  the  pride  of  the  wood,  and  prince  among  the  neigh- 
bouring trees,  behold  !  the  axe  is  Ldd  unto  the  root ; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         137 

the  fatal  blow  ftruck;  and  all  its  branching  honors 
tumbled  to  the  duft.  And  did  he  fall  alone  ?  No  : 
the  hopes  of  his  father  that  begat  him,  and  the  pleaf- 
ing  profpe^ls  of  her  that  bare  him,  fell,  and  were 
crufhed  together  with  him. 

Doubtlefs  it  would  have  pierced  one's  heart,  to  have 
beheld  the  tender  parents  following  the  breathlefs 
youth  to  his  long  home.  Perhaps,  drowned  in  tears, 
and  all  overwhelmed  with  forrows,  they  ftood,  like 
weeping  ftatues,  on  this  very  fpot.  Methinks  I  iee 
the  deeply-diftrefTed  mourners  attending  the  fad  folem- 
nity.  How  they  wring  their  hands,  and  pour  forth 
floods  from  their  eyes  !  Is  it  fancy  ?  or  do  I  really 
hear  the  paflionate  mother,  in  an  agony  of  aflliftion, 
taking  her  final  leave  of  the  darling  of  her  foul  ? 
Dumb  fhS  remained,  while  the  awful  obfequies  were 
performing ;  dumb  with  grief,  and  leaning  upon  the 
partner  of  her  woes.  But  now  the  inward  anguifli 
ftruggles  for  vent ;  it  grows  too  big  to  be  reprelTed. 
She  advances  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  All  her  foul 
is  in  her  eyes.  She  faftens  one  more  look  upon  the 
dear  doleful  objecSt,  before  the  pit  fhuts  its  mouth  upon 
him.  And  as  flie  looks,  (he  cries  ;  in  broken  accents, 
interrupted  by  many  a  rifmg  fob,  fhe  cries,  Farewel, 
my  fon  !  my  fon  !  my  only  beloved  !  would  to  God  I 
had  died  for  thee  !  Farewel,  my  child  !  and  firewel  all 
earthly  happinefs  !  I  Ihall  never  more  fee  good  in  the 
land  of  the  living.  Attempt  not  to  comfort  me.  I 
will  go  mourning  all  my  days,  till  my  grey  hairs  com? 
down  with  forrow  to  the  grave. 


Scene  from  the  Drama  of."  Moses  in  the 
Bulrushes." 

JocHEBED,  Miriam. 
"lochehed,   \KJ^^  ""^^  my  prayer  accepted  ?  why 
^  VV  ^i^  Heaven 

In  anger  hear  me,  when  I  a&'d  a  fon  ? 


1 3  8         THE  COLUMBIAN  OR ATOlt 

Ye  clames  of  Egypt  I  happy  I  happy  mothers  f 
No  tyrant  robs  you  of  your  fondert  hopes ; 
You  are  not  doom'd  to  fee  the  babes  you  bore, 
The  babes  you  nurture,  bleed  before  your  eyes  ! 
You  tafte  the  tranlports  of  maternal  love, 
And  nevv'^r  know  its  anguifli !   Happy  mothers  ! 
How  different  is  the  lot  of  thy  fad  daughters, 
O  wretched  Ifrael  !   Was  it  then  for  this  ? 
Was  it  for  this  the  righteous  arm  of  God 
Refcu'd  his  chofen  people  from  the  jaws 
Of  cruel  want,  by  pious  Jofeph's  care  ? 
Jofeph  th'  eledled  inftrument  of  Heav'n, 
Decreed  to  fave  iliuftrious  Abram's  race. 
What  time  the  famine  rag'd  in  Canaan's  land. 
Ifrael,  who  then  was  fpar'd,  muft  perifli  now  ! 
O  thou  myfterious  Pow'r  !  who  haft  involved 
Thy  wife  decrees  in  darknefs,  to  perplex 
The  pride  of  human  wifdom,  to  confound 
The  daring  fcrutiny,  and  prove  the  faith 
Of  thy  prefuming  creatures  !   clear  this  doubt  5 
Teach  me  to  trace  this  maze  of  Providence ; 
Why  fave  the  fathers,  if  the  fons  mufl  perilh  ? 

Miriam,     Ah  me,  my  mother  !  whence  thefe  floods 
of  grief  ? 

Joch.     My  fon  !  my  fon  !  I  cannot  fpeak  the  reft. 
Ye  who  have  fons  can  only  know  my  fondnefs  [ 
Ye  who  have  loft  them,  or  who  fear  to  lofe, 
Can  only  know  my  pangs !  None  elfe  can  guefs  thejiti. 
A  mother's  forrows  cannot  ho.  conceiv'd. 
But  by  a  mother.     Wherefore  am  I  one  ? 

Mir.   With  many  pray'rs  thou  didft  requeft  this  foti* 
And  Heav'n  has  granted  him. 

Joch,  O  fad  eftate 

Of  human  wretchednefs  !  fo  weak  is  man. 
So  ignorant  and  blind,  that  did  not  God 
Sometimes  withhold  in  mercy  what  we  alk. 
We  Ihould  be  ruin'd  at  our  own  requeft. 
Too  well  thou  know'ft,  my  child,  the  ftern  decree 
Of  Egypt's  cruel  king,  hard-hearted  Phj\raoh> 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  139 

"  That  ev'ry  male,  of  Hebrew  mother  born, 
««  Muft  die."     Oh  !  do  I  live  to  tell  it  thee  ? 
Muft  die  a  bloody  death  !  My  child,  my  fon, 
My  youngeft  born,  my  darling  muft  be  flain  ! 

Aiir\     The  helplefs  innocent !  and  muft  he  die  ? 

Joc/j,     No :  if  a  mother's  tears,  a  mother's  prayVs, 
A  mother's  fond  precautions  can  prevail. 
He  ftiall  not  die.     I  have  a  thought,  my  Miriam  I 
And  fure  the  God  of  mercies,  who  infpir'd. 
Will  blefs  the  fecret  purpofe  of  my  foul, 
To  fave  his  precious  life. 

Mir.  Hop'ft  thou  that  Pharaoh — 

Joc/j.     I  have  no  hope  in  Pharaoh  ;  much  in  God  j 
Much  in  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

Alir.  Think,  O  think. 

What  perils  thou  already  haft  incurr'd  ; 
And  fhun  the  greater  which  may  yet  remain,     [ferv'd 
Three  months,  three  dang'rous  months  thou  haft  pre- 
Thy  infant's  life,  and  in  thy  houfe  conceal'd  him  ! 
Should  Pharaoh  know  ! 

Joch.     Oh  !  let  the  tyrant  know. 
And  feel  what  he  inflicts  !   Yes,  hear  me  Heav'n  I 
Send  the  right  aiming  thunderbolts — But  hufti. 
My  impious  murmurs  !  Is  it  not  thy  will. 
Thou  infinite  in  mercy  ?  Thou  permitt'ft 
This  feeming  evil  for  fome  latent  good. 
Yes,  I  will  laud  thy  grace,  and  blefs  thy  goodnefs 
For  what  I  have,  and  not  arraign  thy  wifdom 
For  what  I  fear  to  lofe.     O,  I  will  blefs  thee, 
That  Aaron  will  be  fpar'd  I  that  my  firft  born 
Lives  fafe  and  undifturbed  1  that  he  was  given  me 
Before  this  impious  perfecution  rag'd  ! 

Mir,  And  yet  who  knows,  but  the  fell  tyrant's  rage 
May  reach  his  precious  life  ? 

Jock,  1  fear  for  him. 

For  thee,  for  all.     A  doting  parent  lives 
In  many  lives  ;  through  many  a  nerve  ftie  feels ; 
From  child  to  child  the  quick  afFe^lions  fpread, 
Forever  wand'ring,  yet  forever  fix'd. 


140         THE  COLIBIBI AN  OR  ATOR. 

Nor  does  divifion  weaken,  nor  the  force 
Of  conftant  operation  e'er  exhauft 
Parental  love.     All  other  paflions  change, 
With  changing  circumftances  j  rife  or  fall, 
Dependant  on  their  ohjcdi ;  claim  returns  ; 
Live  on  reciprocation,  and  expire 
Unfed  by  hope.     A  mother's  fondnefs  reigns 
Without  a  rival,  and  without  an  end. 

Mir.     But  fay  what  Heav'n  infpires,  to  fave  thy  fon  ? 
Joc/j.     Sincethedearfatalmorn  which  gave  him  birth, 
I  have  revolv'd  in  my  diftra(51:ed  mind 
Each  mean  to  fave  his  life  :  and  many  a  thought. 
Which  fondnefs  prompted,  prudence  has  oppos'd 
As  perilous  and  rafh.     With  thefe  poor  hands 
I've  fram'd  a  little  ark  of  flender  reeds ; 
With  pitch  and  flime  I  have  fecur'd  the  fides. 
In  this  frail  cradle  I  intend  to  lay 
My  little  helplefs  infant,  and  expofe  him 
Upon  the  banks  of  Nile. 

Mit\  'Tis  full  of  danger. 

Joch.     'Tis  danger  to  expofe  and  death  to  keep  himi^ 
Mir.     Yet,  O  refledl !  Should  the  fierce  crocodile,. 
The  native  and  the  tyrant  of  the  Nile, 
Seize  the  defencelefs  infant  ! 

JocL  Oh,  forbear! 

Spare  my  fond  heart.     Yet  not  the  crocodile, 
Nor  all  the  deadly  monfters  of  the  deep, 
To  me  are  half  fo  terrible  as  Pharaoh, 
That  heathen  king,  that  royal  murderer  ! 

Mir.     Should  he  efcape,  which  yet  I  dare  not  hopc^- 
Each  fea-born  monfter ;  yet  the  winds  and  waves 
He  cannot  'fcape. 

Joch,  Know,  God  is  ev'ry  where ; 

Not  to  one  narrow,  partial  fpot  confined  y 
No,  not  to  chofen  Ifrael.     He  extends 
Through  all  the  vafl:  infinitude  of  fpace. 
At  his  command  the  furious  tempefi:s  rife. 
The  blading  of  the  breath  of  his  difpleafure : 
He  tells  the  world  of  waters  when  to  roar  5. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


141 


And  at  his  bidding,  winds  and  feas  are  calm. 
In  Him,  not  in  an  arm  of  flvfli  I  truft  ; 
In  Him,  whofe  promife  never  yet  has  faii'd, 
I  place  my  confidence. 

Mir.  What  mufl:  I  do  ? 

Command  thy  daughter,  for  thy  words  have  wak'd 
An  holy  boldnefs  in  my  youthful  breaft. 

Joch.     Go  then,  my  Miriam;  go,and  take  the  infant. 
Buried  in  harmlefs  flumbers,  there  he  lies  : 
Let  me  not  fee  him.     Spare  my  heart  that  pang» 
Yet  furc,  one  little  look  may  be  indulged ; 
One  kifs  ;  perhaps  the  laft.     No  more,  my  foul  ! 
That  fondnefs  would  be  fatal.     I  fhould  keep  him. 
I  could  not  doom  to  death  the  babe  I  clafp'd  : 
Did  ever  mother  kill  her  fleeping  boy  ? 
I  dare  not  hazard  it.     The  talk  be  thine. 
Oh  !  do  not  wake  my  child  •,  remove  him  foftly  5 
And  gently  lay  him  on  the  river's  brink. 

Mir.     ]3id  thofe  magicians,  whom  the  fons  of  Egypt 
Confult,  and  think  all-potent,  join  their  Ikill, 
And  was  it  great  as  Egypt's  fons  believe  *, 
Yet  all  their  fecret  wizard  arts  combined, 
To  fave  this  little  ark  of  bulrufhes, 
Thus  fearfully  expos'd,  could  not  efFe61:  it. 
Their  fpells,  their  incantations,  and  dire  charms 
Could  not  prcferve  it. 

Joch.  Know,  this  ark  is  charm'd 

With  fpells,  which  impious  Egypt  never  knew. 
With  invocations  to  the  living  God, 
I  twifted  every  flender  reed  together. 
And  with  a  pray'r  did  ev'ry  ozier  weave. 

Mir.     I  go. 

Joch.     Yet  e'er  thou  go'ft,  obferve  me  well. 
When  thou  haft  laid  him  in  his  wat'ry  bed, 

0  leave  him  not ;  but  at  a  diftance  wait, 

And  mark  what  Heav'n's  high  will  determines  for  him. 
Lay  him  among  the  flags  on  yonder  beach, 
Juft  where  the  royal  gardens  meet  the  Nile. 

1  dare  not  follow  him.     Sufpicion's  eye  , 


142         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Would  note  my  wild  demeanor ;  Miriam,  yes, 
The.  mother's  fondnefs  would  betray  the  child. 
Farewell  I   God  of  my  fathers.  Oh  protect  him  ! 


Speech  of  CAiUb  Cassius  to  his  collected 
Forces,  after  the  death  of  Cesar. 

Soldiers  and  Fellow-Citizens, 

THE  unjuft  reproaches  of  our  enemies  we  could 
eafily  difprove,  if  we  were  not,  by  our  numbers, 
and  by  the  fwords  which  we  hold  in  our  hands,  in  con- 
dition to  defpife  them.  While  Cefar  led  the  armies  of 
the  republic  againft  the  enemies  of  Rome,  we  took 
part  in  the  fame  fervice  with  him ;  we  obeyed  him  ; 
we  v/ere  happy  to  ferve  under  his  command.  But 
when  he  declared  war  againft  the  commonwealth,  we 
became  his  enemies  ;  and  when  he  became  an  ufurper 
and  a  tyrant,  we  refented,  as  an  injury,  even  the  fa- 
vours which  he  prefumed  to  beftow  upon  ourfelves. 

Had  he  been  to  fall  a  facrifice  to  private  refentment, 
we  fhould  not  have  been  the  proper  adtors  in  the  exe- 
cution of  the  fentence  againft  him.  He  was  willing  to 
have  indulged  us  with  preferments  and  honors  ;  but 
we  were  not  willing  to  accept,  ^s  the  gift  of  a  mafter, 
what  we  were  entitled  to  claim  as  free  citizens.  We 
conceived,  that,  in  prefuming  to  confer  the  hohors  of 
the  Roman  republic,  he  encroached  on  the  prerogatives 
of  the  Roman  people,  and  infulted  the  authority  of 
the  Roman  fenate.  Cefar  cancelled  the  laws,  and  over- 
turned the  conftitution  of  his  country  ;  he  ufurped  all ' 
the  powers  of  the  commonwealth,  fet  up  a  monarchy, 
and  himfelf  affected  to  be  a  king.  This  our  anceftors, 
at  the  expulfion  of  Tarquin,  bound  themfelves  and 
their  pofterity,  by  the  moft  folemn  oaths,  and  by  the 
moft  direful  imprecations,  never  to  endure.  The  fame 
obligation  has  been  entailed  upon  us  as  a  debt  by  our 
fathers  j  and  we,  having  faithfully  paid  and  difcbarged 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  143 

it,  have  performed  the  oath,  and  averted  the  confe- 
qiiences  of  failure  from  ourfelves,  and  from  our  pof- 
terity. 

In  the  ftation  of  foldlers,  we  might  have  committed 
ourfelves,  without  reflexion,  to  the  command  of  an 
officer,  whofe  abilities  and  whofe  valour  we  admired  ; 
but,  in  the  chara<fter  of  Roman  citizens,  we  have  a  far' 
different  part  to  fuftain.  I  muft  fuppofe,  thst  I  now 
fpeak  to  the  Roman  people,  and  to  citizens  of  a  free 
republic ;  to  men  who  have  never  learned  to  depend 
upon  others  for  gratifications  and  favours  ;  who  are  not 
accuftomed  to  own  a  fuperiour,  but  who  are  themfelves 
the  mafters,  the  difpenfers  of  fortune  and  of  honor, 
and  the  givers  of  all  thofe  dignities  and  powers  by 
which  Cefar  himfelf  was  exalted,  and  of  which  he 
aflumed  the  entire  difpofal. 

Recol!e6l  from  whom  the  Scipios,  the  Pompeys,  and 
even  Cefar  himfelf  derived  his  honors  ;  from  your  an- 
ceftors,  whom,  you  now  reprefent,  and  from  yourfelves, 
to  whom,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  republic,  we, 
who  are  now  your  leaders  in  the  field,  addrefs  ourfelves 
as  your  fellow-citizens  in  the  commonwealth,  and  as 
perfons  dependmg  on  your  pleafure  for  the  juil  reward 
and  retribution  of  our  fervices.  Happy  in  being  able 
to  reftore  to  you  what  Cefar  had  the  prefumption  to 
appropriate  to  himfelf,  the  power  and  the  dignity  of 
your  fathers,  with  the  fupreme  difpofal  of  all  the  of- 
fices of  truft  that  were  eltabliflied  for  your  fafety,  and 
for  the  prefervation  of  your  freedom  ;  happy  in  being 
able  to  reftore  to  the  tribunes  of  the  Roman  people  the 
power  of  protecSling  you,  and  of  procuring  to  every 
Roman  citizen  that  juftice,  which,  under  the  late  ufur- 
pation  of  Cefar,  was  withheld,  even  from  the  facred 
perfons  of  thofe  magiftrates  themfelves. 

An  ufurper  is  the  common  enemy  of  all  good  citizens; 
but  the  tafk  of  removing  him  could  be  the  bufinefi?  only 
of  a  few.  The  fenate  and  the  Roman  people,  as  foon 
as  it  was  proper  for  them  to  declare  their  judgment, 
pronounced  their  approbation  of  thofe  who  were  con-- 


144        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

cerned  in  the  death  of  Ccfar,  by  the  rewards  and  the 
honors  which  they  beftowed  upon  them  ;  and  they  are 
now  become  a  prey  to  aff.fliris  and  murderers  •,  they 
bleed  in  the  ftreets,  in  the  temples,  in  the  moft  fecret 
retreats,  and  in  the  arms  of  their  families  ;  or  they  are 
difperfed,  and  fly  wherever  they  hope  to  efcape  the 
fury  of  their  enemies. 

Many  are  now  prefent  before  you,  huppy  in  your 
protc^flion,  happy  in  witneffing  the  zeal  which  you  en- 
tertain for  the  commonwealth,  for  the  rights  of  your 
fellow-citizens,  and  for  your  own.  Thefe  refpe<Slable 
citizens,  we  truft,  will  foon,  by  your  means,  bereftor- 
ed  to  a  condition  in  which  they  can  enjoy,  together 
with  you,  all  the  honors  of  a  free  people  •,  concur  with 
you,  in  beftowing,  and  partake  with  you  in  receiving, 
the  rewards  which  are  due  to  fuch  eminent  fer vices  as 
you  are  now  engaged  to  perform. 


Part   of  Mr.  Erskine's  Speeck  against 
Mr.  Pitt,   1784. 

Mr.  Speaker, 

IT  becomes  us  to  learn,  not  from  the  minifter,  but 
from  the  Throne  itfelf,  whether  this  country  is  to 
be  governed  by  men,  in  whom  the  Houfe  of  Commons 
can  confide,  or  whether  we,  the  people  of  England's 
Reprefentatives,  are  to  be  the  fport  and  football  of  any 
junto  that  may  hope  to  rule  over  us,  by  an  unfeen  and 
unexplorable  principle  of  government, utterly  unknowij 
to  the  ConiHtution.  This  is  the  great  queftion,  to 
which  every  public-fpirited  citizen  of  this  country 
fhould  dire<^  his  view.  A  queftion  which  goes  very 
wide  of  the  policy  to  be  adopted  concerning  India, 
about  which  very  wife  and  very  honeft  men,  not  only 
might,  but  have,  and  did  materially  differ. 

The  total  removal  of  all  the  executive  fervants  of 
tJie  crown,  while  they  are  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  the 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  145 

confidence  of  that  Houfe,  and,  indeed,  without  any 
other  vilible  or  avowed  caufe  of  removal,  than  becaufc 
they  do  enjoy  that  confidence ;  and  the  appointment 
of  others  in  their  room,  without  any  oth^er  apparent 
ground  of  feleiflion  than  becaufe  they  enjoy  it  not,  is, 
in  my  mind,  a  moft  alarming  and  portentous  attack  on 
the  public  freedom  •,  becaufe,  though  no  outward  form 
of  the  government  is  relaxed  or  violated  by  it,  fo  as 
inftantly  to  fupply  the  coniHtutional  remedy  of  oppo- 
lltion,  the  whole  fpirit  and  energy  of  the  government 
is  annihilated  by  it. 

If  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  retain  his  own 
opinions,  and  if  the  Houfe  likewife  retain  its  own,  is  it 
not  evident  that  he  came  into  office  without  the  moft 
diftant  profj)e<St  of  ferving  the  public  ?  Is  it  not  evident 
that  he  has  brought  on  a  ftruggle  between  executive 
and  legiflatlvc  authority,  at  a  time  when  they  are 
pointing  with  equal  vigour,  unity,  and  efFeift,  to  the 
common  interefts  of  the  nation  ? 

The  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  may  imagine  that 
I  take  pleafure  in  making  thefe  obfcrvations.  If  fo,  I 
can  aflure  him,  upon  my  honor,  that  it  is  far  from  be- 
ing the  cafe.  .  So  very  far  the  contrary,  that  the  incon- 
veniences which  the  country  fufFers  at  this  moment, 
from  the  want  of  a  fettled  government,  are  greatly 
heightened  to  my  feelings,  from  the  reflection  that  they 
are  increafed  by  his  unguided  ambition. 

Our  fathers  were  friends  ;  and   I  was  taught,   from 

my  infancy,  to  reverence  the  name  of  Pitt  ;  an  original 

partiality,   which,  inftead    of  being    diminiihed,    was 

ftrongly  confirmed  by  an  acquaintance  with  the  Right 

Honorable  Gentleman  himfelf,  which  I  was  cultivating 

with  pleafure,  when  he  was  taken  from  his  profcfUon 

into  a  different  fcene.     Let  him  not  think  that  I  am 

the  lefs  his  friend,  or  the  mean  envier  of  his  talents^ 

.    becaufe  they  have   been  too  much  the  topic  of  pane- 

'   gyric  here  already,  and  both  I  and  the  public  are  now 

reaping  the  bitter  fruits  of  thefe  intemperate  praifes. 

N 


146  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

« It  Is  good,"  faid  Jeremiah,  "  for  a  man  to  bear 
the  yoke  in  his  youth  ;"  and  if  the  Right  Honorable 
Gentleman  had  attended  to  this  maxim,  he  would  not, 
at  fo  early  a  period,  have  declared  againfl:  a  fubordi- 
nate  iituation  ;  but  would  have  lent  the  aid  of  his  fac- 
ulties to  carry  on  the  affairs  of  this  country,  which 
wanted  nothing  but  ftability  to  render  them  glorious, 
inftead  of  fetting  up  at  once  for  himfelf  to  be  the  firfV. 

How  very  different  has  been  the  progrtfs  of  my 
honorable  friend  who  fits  near  me ;  who  was  not 
hatched  at  once  into  a  minifter,  by  the  heat  of  his  own 
ambition  ;  but  who,  ris  it  w^as  good  for  him  to  do,  in 
the  words  of  the  proplKt,  "bore  the  yoke  in  his  youth  j" 
paffed  through  the  fubordinate  offices,  and  matured  his 
talents,  in  long  and  laborious  oppofitions  ;  arriving,  by 
the  natural  .progrefs  of  his  powerful  mind,  to  a  fupe- 
riority  of  political  wifdom  and  comprehenfion,  which 
this  Houfe  had  long,  with  delight  and  fatisfadtion,  ac- 
knowledged. 

To  pluck  fuch  a  man  from  the  councils  of  his  coun- 
try in  the  hour  of  her  diftrefs,  while  he  enjoyed  the 
full  confidence  of  the  Houfe,  to  give  effeift  to  vigorous 
plans  for  her  interefts  •,  and  to  throw  every  thing  into 
confuficn,  by  the  introdudlion  of  other  men,  introdu- 
ced, as  it  fliould  feem,  for  no  other  purpofe  than  to 
beget  that  confufion,  is  an  evil,  which,  if  we  cannot 
rectify,  we  may  at  leaft  have  leave  to  lament. 

Thefe  evils  are,  however,  imputed,  by  the  Right 
Honorable  Gentleman  and  his  colleagues,  to  another 
fource  ;  to  the  bill  for  the  regulation  of  the  Eaft  In- 
dies ;  from  the  mifchiefs  of  which  they  had  fiepped 
forth  to  fave  the  country ;  a  language  moft  indecent 
in  this  Houfe  of  Commons,  which  thought  it  their  duty 
to  the  public  to  pafs  it  by  a  majority  of  above  one  hun- 
dred :  but  w^hich  was,  however,  to  be  taken  to  be  de- 
firu6live  and  dangerous,  notwithflanding  that  author- 
ity ;  becaufe  it  had  been  diiapproved  by  a  majority  of 
eighteen  votes  in  the  Houfe  of  Lords.  Sone  of  whofe 
opinions  I  reverence  as  confcicntious  and  independent , 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  147 

but  the  majority  of  that  fiuall  majority  voted  upon 
principles  which  the  forms  of  the  H^ufe  will  not  per- 
mit me  to  allude  to,  farther  than  to  fay,  that  individ- 
ual Nohlemcn  are  not  ahvavs  Genlkmen, 


Extract  from  President  Washington's 
Address  to  the  People  of  the  United  States, 
Sept.  17,   1796. 

Friends  and  Fellow-Citizens, 

THE  period  for  a  new  ele£lion  of  a  citizen  to  ad- 
minifter  the  executive  government  of  the  United 
States,  being  not  far  diftant ;  and  the  time  actually 
arrived,  when  your  thoughts  muft  be  employed  in  de- 
fignating  the  perfon,  who  is  to  be  clothed  with  that 
important  truft,  it  appears  to  me  proper,  efpecially  as 
it  may  conduce  to  a  more  diflinct  expreffion  of  the 
public  voice,  that  I  fhould  now  apprife  you  of  the  ref- 
olution  I  have  formed,  to  decline  being  coniidered 
among  the  number  of  thofe,  out  of  whom  a  choice  is 
to  be  made. 

I  beg  you,  at  the  fame  time,  to  do  me  the  juftice  to 
be  aflured,  that  this  refolution  has  not  been  taken, 
without  a  ftridl  regard  to  all  the  confiderations  apper- 
taining to  the  relation,  which  binds  a  dutiful  citizen  to 
his  country ;  and  that,  in  withdrawing  the  tender  of 
fervice  which  filence  in  my  lituation  might  imply,  I 
am  influenced  by  no  diminution  of  zeal  for  your  future 
intereft  ;  no  deficiency  of  grateful  refpedl  for  your  pafk 
kindnefs  ;  but  am  fupported  by  a  full  conviction  that 
the  ftep  is  compatible  with  both. 

The  acceptance  of,  and  continuance  hitherto  in  the- 
ofHce  to  which  your  fufirages  have  twice  called  me, 
have  been  a  uniform  facrifice  of  Inclination  to  the  opin- 
ion of  duty,  and  to  a  deference  for  what  appeared  to 
be  your  defire.  I  conftantly  hoped,  that  it  would  have 
been  muck  earlier  in  my  po>ver,  confiftentiy  with  inc- 


i45         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

tives,  which  I  was  not  at  liberty  to  difregard,  to  return 
to  that  retirement  from  which  I  had  been  relucSlantly 
drawn.  The  ftrength  of  my  inclination  to  do  thisj 
previous  to  the  laft  election,  had  even  led  to  the  prep- 
aration of  an  addrefs  to  declare  it  to  you  -,  but  mature 
reflection  on  the  then  perplexed  and  critical  poOureof 
our  affairs  with  foreign  nations,  and  the  unanin  cus  ad* 
vice  of  perloas  entitled  to  my  confidence,  impelled  me 
to  abandon  the  idea. 

I  rejoice  that  the  ftate  of  your  concerns,  external 
as  well  as  internal,  no  longer  renders  the  purfuit  of 
Inclination  incompatible  with  the  fentiment  of  duty, 
vi  propriety  ;  and  am  pcrfljadcd,  whatever  partiality 
may  be  retained  for  my  fervices,  that  in  the  prefenfe 
circumftances  of  our  country,  you  will  not  difapprove 
my  determination  to  retire. 

The  impreffions,  with  which  I  fir  ft  undertook  the 
arduous  truft,  were  explained  on  the  proper  occafion. 
In  the  difcharge  of  this  trufi:,  I  will  only  fay,  that  I 
have  with  good  intentions  contributed  towards  the  or- 
ganization and  adminiflration  of  the  government,  the 
beft  exertions  of  which  a  very  fallible  judgment  was 
capable.  Not  unconfcious,  in  the  outfet,  of  tlie  infe- 
riority of  my  qualifications,  experience  in  my  own  eyes, 
perhaps  flill  more  in  the  eyes  of  others,  has  ftrength- 
ened  the  motives  to  diffidence  of  myfelf  :  and  every 
day  the  increafmg  weight  of  years  admonifhes  me  more 
and  more,  that  the  fhade  of  retirement  is  as  necelTary 
to  me  as  it  will  be  welcome.  Satisfied  that  if  any  cir- 
cumftances have  given  peculiar  value  to  my  fervices, 
they  were  temporary,  I  have  the  confolation  to  believe, 
that  while  choice  and  prudence  invite  me  to  quit  the 
•  political  fcene,  patriotifm  does  not  forbid  it. 

In  looking  forward  to  the  moment,  which  is  intend- 
ed to  terminate  the  career  of  my  public  life,  my  feel- 
ings do  not  permit  me  to  fufpend  the  deep  acknowl- 
edgment of  that  debt  of  gratitude  which  I  owe  to  my 
beloved  country,  for  tb.e  many  honors  it  has  conferred 
upon  me  ;  ftUl  more  for  the  ftcdfaft  'confidence  with 


THE  C(K.tMBrAH  ORATOR.  14^ 

which  it  has  fupported  me  j  and  for  the  opportunities 
I  have  thence  enjoyed  of  manifefting  my  inviolable  at- 
tachment, by  fervices  faithful  and  perfevering,  though 
in  ufefulnefs  unequal  to  my  zeal.  If  beneiits  have  re- 
fulted  to  our  country  from  thefe  fervices,  let  it  always 
be  remembered  to  your  praife,  as  an  inftructive  exam- 
ple in  our  annals,  that  under  circumrtances  in  which 
the  paflions,  agitated  in  every  direction,  were  liable  to 
miflead  ;  amidll  appearances  fometimes  dubious  ;  vicif- 
fitudes  of  fortune  often  difcouraging  ;  in  fituations  in 
which,  not  unfrequently,  want  of  fuccefs  has  counte- 
nanced the  fpirit  of  criticifm ;  the  conftancy  of  your 
fupport  was  the  eflential  prop  of  the  efforts,  and  u 
guarantee  of  the  plans  by  which  they  were  effected. 

Profoundly  penetrated  with  this  idea,  I  (hall  carry  it 
with  me  to  my  grave,  as  a  ftrong  incitement  to  unceaf- 
xng  vovfs  that  Hc^aven  may  continue  to  you  the  choicefl: 
tokens  of  its  beneficence  ;  that  your  union  and  brotli- 
erly  affe<riion  may  be  perpetual  ;.  that  tlie  free  conRi- 
tution,  which  is  the  work  of  your  hands,  may  be  fa- 
credly  maintained";  that  its  adminiftration  in  every  de- 
partment may  be  ftamped  with  wifdom  and  virtue ; 
that,  in  fine,  the  happinefs  of  the  people  of  thefe  States, 
under  the  aufpices  of  liberty,  may  be  made  complete, 
by  fo  careful  a  prefervation  and  fo  prudent  a  ufe  of  this 
blefhng,  as  will  acquire  to  them  the  glory  of  Yecom" 
mending  it  to  the  applaufe,  the  afF^<Stion,  and  adoption 
of  every  nation  which  is  yet  a  ftranger  to  it. 

Though  in  reviewing  the  incidents  of  my  adminii- 
tration,  I  am  unconfcious  of  intentional  error  ;  I  am 
neverthelefs  too  fenfible  of  my  defeats  not  to  think  it 
probable  that  I  may  have  committed  many  errors. 
Whatever  they  may  be,  I  fervently  befeech  the  Al- 
mighty to  avert  or  mitigate  the  evils  to  which  they 
tend.  I  fhall  alfo  carry  with  me  the  hope  that  my 
country  will  never  ceafe  to  view  them  with  indulgence  , 
and  after  forty-five  years  of  my  life  dedicated  to  its  fer- 
Tice,  with  an  upright  zeal,  the  faults  of  incompetent 


1 50  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOH. 

abilities  will  be  configned  to  oblivion,  as  myfelf  miifi: 
foon  be  to  the  manfions  of  ref>. 

Relying  on  its  kindnefs  in  this  as  in  other  things  ; 
and  actuated  by  that  fervent  love  towards  it,  which  is 
fo  natural  to  a  man  who  views  in  it  the  native  foil  of 
himfelf  and  his  progenitors  for  feveral  generations,  I 
anticipate  with  pleoiing  expectation  that  retreat,  in 
which  I  promife  myfelf  to  realize^,  without  alloy,  the 
fweet  enjoyment  of  partaking,  in  the  midft  of  my  fel- 
lov.'-citizens,  the  benign  influence  of  good  laws  under 
•a  free  government  j  the  ever  favourite  obje6l  of  my 
heart,  and  the  happy  reward,  as  1  truft,  of  our  mutual 
cares,  labors,  and  dangers. 


Dialogue  on  the  Choice  of  Business  for' 

LlEE. 

Enter  Edward,  Charley,  and  Thomas. 

V  /  --//  T'^  appears  to  me  high  time  for  us  to  choofe 
i  o^^  bufinefs  for  life.  Our  academical 
itudies  will  foon  be  completed  ;  and  I  wifh  to  look  a 
little  forward.     What  lay  you  ?  am  I  right  ? 

Charley*  It  may  be  well  for  you ;  poor  men's  fonS 
muft  look  out  for  themfelves.  My  father  is  able  to 
fupport  me  at  my  eafe  ;  and  my  mamma  fays  flie  would 
rather  fee  me  laid  in  a  cofHn  than  fhut  up  in  a  ftudy, 
fpoiling  my  eyes  and  racking  my  brains,  plodding  over 
your  nonfenfical  miniiler,  doctor,  and  lawyer  books  \ 
and  I  am  fuve  (he  would  never  have  me  confined  be- 
hind a  counter,  or  a  merchant's  defk.  She  intends  I  fhall 
be  brought  up  a  gentleman.  My  mother  is  of  noble 
blood,  and  fhe  don't  intend  that  I  fhall  difgrace  it. 

Ed%u.  Pray,  mafter  Charley,  who  was  the  fathCC 
of  your  noble- blooded  mother  ? 

Char.     A  gentleman,  I'd  have  you  to  know. 

Edw.     Yes,  a  gentleman  cobbler,  to  my  knowledge. 

Char.  Aye,  he  followed  that  bufinefs,  to  be  fure, 
ibmetimes,  to  flop  the  clamour  of  the  vulgar.     Then 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  151 

poor  people  could  not  bear  to  fee  a  rich  man  living  at 
his  eafe,  or  give  a  nobleman  his  title.  But  times  are 
altering  for  the  better,  my  mamma  fays :  the  rich  be- 
gin to  govern  now.  We  fhall  foon  live  in  ftyle,  and 
wear  titles  here  as  well  as  in  England.  She  intends  to 
fend  over  and  get  my  coat  of  arms,  and  (he  hopes  to 
add  a  title  to  them. 

Bd^v.  High  ftyle  !  titles  !  and  coats  of  arms  !  fine 
things  in  America,  to  be  fure  !  Well,  after  all,  I  can't 
really  difapprove  of  your  mamma's  plan.  A  lapftone, 
^n  awl,  and  (hoe-hammer  will  make  a  fine  pi£lure,  and 
may  appear  as  well  In  your  mother's  parlour,  as  in  her 
father's  ihop  :  and  the  title  of  cobbler,  or  flioe-maker 
would  well  become  her  darling  Charley. 

Char.  I  will  not  be  infulted  on  account  of  my  grand- 
father's employment,  I'll  have  you  to  know  !  I  have 
heard  my  mother  fay,  her  father  was  grandfon  of  an 
aunt  of  Tquire  Fhorw,  who  once  had  a  horfe  that  run 
a  race  with  the  famous  horfe  of  a  coufin  of  the  Duke 
of  Bedford,  of 

Etku.  Qiiite  enough  I  I  am  fully  convinced  of  the 
juftice  of  your  claim  to  the  title  of  Duke,  or  whatever 
you  pleafe.  About  as  much  merit  in  it,  I  perceive,  as 
in  your  father's  title  to  his  eftate.  Ten  thoufand  dol- 
lars drawn  in  a  lottery  ;  already  two  thirds  fpent.  A 
title  to  nobility  derived  from  the  grandfon  of  an  aunt 
of  'fquire  Thorn,  from  'fquire  Thorn's  horfe,  or  per- 
haps from  fome  monkey,  that  has  been  a  favourite  play- 
mate with  the  prince  of  Wales.  Thefe  are  to  be  the 
fupport  of  your  eafe  and  honor  through  life.  Well,  I 
believe  there  is  no  need  of  your  troubling  yourfelf  about 
your  future  employment :  that  is  already  determined. 
Depend  upon  it,  you  will  repent  of  your  folly,  or  fcratch 
a  poor  man's  head  as  long  as  you  live.  I  advife  you 
to  fet  about  the  former,  in  order  to  avoid  the  latter. 

Char.  I  did  not  come  to  you  for  advice.  Fll  not  bear 
your  infults,  or  difgrace  myfelf  wijth  your  company  any 
longer.     My  parents  ih^l  teach  you  better  manners. 

{Exit  Charley, 


15^         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Thomas.  I  pity  the  vanity  and  weaknefs  of  this  poor 
lad.  But  reflecHon  and  experience  will  teach  him  the 
fallacy  of  his  hopes. 

Ediu.  Poor  child  ;  he  does  not  know  that  his  lot- 
tery money  is  almoll:  gone  j  that  his  father's  houfe  is 
mortgaged  for  more  than  it  Is  worth;  and  that  the  only 
care  of  his  parents  is  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  pref- 
ent  grandeur,  at  the  expenfe  of  future  fliame.  Happy 
for  us,  that  we  are  not  deluded'  with  fuch  deceitful 
hopes. 

Tho.  My  parents  were  poor  ;  not  proud.  They  ex- 
perienced the  want  of  learning  ;  but  were  refolved  their 
children  fhould  (hare  the  benefit  of  a  good  education.  I 
am  the  fourth  fon,  who  owe  the  debt  of  filial  gratitude. 
All  but  myfelf  are  well  fettled  in  bufinefs,  and  doing 
honor  to  themfelves  and  their  parents.  If  I  fall  Ihort 
of  their  example,  I  fliall  be  mod  ungrateful. 

Ediv.  I  have  neither  father  nor  mother  to  excite  my 
gratitude,  or  ftimulate  my  exertions.  But  I  wifh  to 
behave  in  fuch  a  manner,  that  if  my  parents  could  look 
down  and  obferve  my  actions,  they  might  approve  my 
condu(Sl:.  Of  my  family,  neither  root  nor  branch  re- 
mains :  all  have  paid  the  debt  of  nature.  They  left  a 
name  for  honefty;  and  I  cfteem  that  highs-^r  than  a  pre- 
tended title  to  greatnefs.  They  have  left  me  a  fmall 
farm,  which,  though  not  enough  for  my  fupport,  will, 
with  my  own  induftry,  be  fufficient.  For  employment 
to  pafs  away  the  winter  feafon,  I  have  determined  up-^ 
©n  keeping  a  fcliool  for  my  neighbours'  children. 

Tho.  I  heartily  approve  of  your  determination. 
Our  mother  Earth  rewards,  with  peace  and  plenty^ 
Ihofe  who  cultivate  her  face ;  but  loads,  with  anxious 
cares,  thofe  who  dig  her  bowels  for  treafure.  The 
life  you  contemplate  is  favourable  to  the  enjoyment  of 
focial  happinefs,  improvement  of  the  mind,  and  fecurity 
of  virtue  ;  and  the  tafk  of  training  the  tender  mind  is 
an  employment,  that  ought  to  meet  the  encour?.^*-- 
ment,  the  gratitude  of  €^iery  parent,  and  the  refpe^of 
every  child. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  15-^ 

Ediv.  I  am  pleafed  that  you  approve  my  choicer 
Will  you  as  frankly  tell  me  your  Ovvn  ? 

Tbo.  I  will:  my  intention  is  to  follow  the  inclina- 
tion of  my  kind  parents.  It  is  their  delire  that  I  {hould 
be  a  preacher.  Their  other  Tons  have  taken  to  other 
callings  j  and  they  wilh  to  fee  one  of  their  children  in 
the  delk.  If  their  prayers  are  anfwered,  I  fliall  be 
fitted  for  the  important  tafk.  To  my  youth,  it  appears 
formidable  ;  but  others,  with  lefs  advantages,  have  fuc- 
ceeded,  and  been  bleffings  to  fociety,  and  an  honor  to 
their  profeffion. 

E(ku.  You  have  chofen  the  better  part.  Whatever 
the  licentious  may  fay  to  the  contrary,  the  happinefe 
of  fociety  muft  reft  on  the  principles  of  virtue  and  re- 
ligion ;  and  the  pulpit  muft  be  the  nurfery,  where 
they  are  cultivated.     , 

no,     « ^The  pulpit; 

And  I  name  it,  filPd  with  folemn  awe, 

Muft  ftand  acknowledged,  while  the  world  fhall  ftandj 

The  moft  important  and  effe61ual  guard, 

Support  and  ornament  of  virtue's  caufe. 

There  ftands  the  meflenger  of  truth.     There  ftands 

The  legate  of  the  fkies :  his  theme  divine, 

His  office  facred,  his  credentials  clear. 

By  him  the  violated  law  fpeaks  out 

Its  thunders,  and  by  him,  in  ftralns  as  fweet 

As  angels  ufe,  the  gofpel  whifpers  peace.'* 

My  heart  glows  with  the  fubje<ft ;  and  if  my  abilities 
could  equal  my  zeal,  I  could  at  leaft  hope  to  realize 
the  fublime  character,  fo  beautifully  drawn  by  Cowper. 

Edw.  It  is  a  laudable  ambition  to  aim  at  eminence 
in  religion,  and  excellence  in  virtue. 


1  ^4         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Speech  of  Buonaparte,  Commander  m 
Chief  of  the  French  Army  in  Italy,  before 
HIS  Attack  on  Milan,  April  26,  1796.         < 

Soldiers, 

YOU  have  in  a  fortnight  gained  fix  viftories ; 
taken  twenty-one  ftands  of  colours  ;  feventy-onc 
pieces  of  cannon  ;  feveral  ftrong  places ;  conquered 
the  richeft  part  of  Piedmont  ;  you  have  made  fifteen 
thoufand  prifoners,  and  killed  or  wounded  more  than 
ten  thoufand  men.  You  had  hitherto  fought  only  for 
fterile  rocks,  rendered  illuftrious  by  your  courage,  but 
ufelefs  to  the  country  •,  you  have  equalled  by  your  fer- 
vices  the  vi<Sl:orious  army  of  Holland  and  the  Rhine, 
Deprived  of  evcy  thing,  you  have  fupplied  every  thing. 
You  have  won  battles  without  cannon ;  made  forced 
marches  without  fhoes ;  watched  without  brandy,  and 
often  without  bread.  The  republican  phalanxes,  the 
foldiers  of  liberty  were  alone  capable  of  fuffering  what 
you  have  fuffered. 

Thanks  be  to  you,  foldiers.  The  grateful  country 
will,  in  part,  be  indebted  to  you  for  her  profperityj 
and  if,  when  viiStorious  at  Toulon,  you  predicted  the 
immortal  campaign  of  1794,  your  prefent  victories  will 
be  the  prefages  of  more  brilliant  victories.  The  two 
armies  which  attacked  you  with  audacity,  fly  diiheart- 
ened  before  you.  Men,  who  fmiled  at  your  mifery, 
and  rejoiced  in  thought  at  the  idea  of  the  triumphs  of 
your  enemies,  are  confounded  and  appalled.  But  it 
mufl  not,  foldiers,  be  concealed  from  you,  that  you 
have  done  fiothingy  fince  fomething  remains  yet  to  be 
done.     Neither  Turin  nor  Milan  are  in  your  power. 

The  afhes  of  the  conquerors  of  the  Tarquins  are  flill 
difgraced  by  the  afTaffins  of  BafTeville.  At  the  com- 
mencement of  the  campaign  you  were  deftitute  of  ev- 
ery thing  J  now  you  are  amply  provided  \  the  magi* 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  151 

zines  taken  from  your  enemies  are  numerous ;  the  ar- 
tillery for  the  field  and  for  befieging  is  arrived. 

Soldiers,  the  country  has  a  right  to  expedl  great 
things  from  you  j  juftify  her  expectations.  The  great- 
eft  obitacles  are  undoubtedly  overcome  j  but  you  have 
ftill  battles  to  fight,  cities  to  take,  rivers  to  pais.  Is 
there  one  among  you  whofe  courage  is  diminifhed  ?  Is 
there  one  who  would  prefer  returning  to  the  fummits 
of  the  Alps  and  the  Appenines  ?  No  :  all  burn  with 
the  defire  of  extending  the  glory  of  the  French ;  to 
humble  the  proud  kmgs  who  dare  to  meditate  putting 
us  again  in  chains  ;  to  dictate  a  peace  that  fhall  be 
glorious,  and  that  fhall  indemnify  the  country  for  the 
immenle  facrifices  which  fhe  has  made.  All  of  you 
burn  with  a  defire  to  fay  on  your  return  to  your  home, 
I  belonged  to  the  victorious  army  of  Italy. 

Friends,  I  promife  this  conqueft  to  you ;  but  there 
is  one  condition  which  you  muft  fwear  to  fulfil ;  it  is 
to  refpecft  the  people  whom  you  deliver ;  to  reprefs 
the  horrible  pillage  which  fome  wretches,  inltigated  by 
our  enemies,  had  praCtifed.  Unlefs  you  do  this,  you 
will  no  longer  be  the  friends,  but  the  fcourges  of  the 
human  race  ;  you  will  no  longer  form  the  honor  of 
the  French  people.  They  will  difavow  you.  Your 
victories,  your  fuccefTes,  the  blood  of  your  brethren 
who  died  in  battle ;  all,  even  honor  and  glory  will  be 
loft.  With  refpeCt  to  myfelf;  to  the  generals  who 
poflefs  your  confidence,  we  (hall  blufh  to  command  an 
army  without  difcipline,  and  who  admit  no  other  law 
jthan  that  of  force. 

People  of  Italy,  the  French  army  comes  to  break 
your  chains  ;  the  French  people  arc  the  friends  of  all 
people ;  come  with  confidence  tothem ;  your  prop- 
erty, religion,  and  customs,  fliall  be  refpeCtcd.  We 
make  war  as  generous  en^imies ;  and  wifli  only  to 
iTiake  war  againft  the  tyrants  who  opprefs  you. 


J56         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Mr.  Pitt's  Speech,  Nov.  i8,  1777,  in  Op- 
position TO  Lord  Suffolk,  who  proposed  to 
Parliament  to  employ  the  Indians  against 
THE  Americans;  and'Avho  said,  in  the  Course 
OF  THE   Debate,    that   "  teiey  had  a  Right 

TO  USE  ALL  the  MeANS,  THAT  GoD  AND  NaTURE 
HAD  PUT  INTO  THEIR  HanDS,  TO  CONQUER  AMER- 
ICA." 

My  Lords, 

1AM  aflioniflied  to  hear  fuch  principles  confeiTed  ! 
I  am  lliocked  to  hear  them  avowed  in  this  Houfe, 
or  in  this  country  !  Principles,  equally  unconftitution- 
al,  inhuman,  and  unchrillian  ! 

My  lords,  I  did  not  intend  to  have  encroached 
again  on  your  attention  ;  but  I  cannot  reprefs  niy  in- 
dignation. I  feel  niyfelf  impelled  by  every  duty.  My 
lords,  we  are  called  upon  as  members  of  this  Houfe,  as 
men,  as  Chriftian  men,  to  proteft  againfl:  fuch  notions 
ftanding  near  the  throne,  polluting  the  ear  of  Majefty. 
'*  That  God  and  nature  put  into  our  hands  !"  I  know 
not  what  ideas  that  lord  may  entertain  of  God  and 
nature ;  but  I  know,  that  fuch  abominable  principles 
are  equally  abhorrent  to  religion  and  humanity. 

What !  to  attribute  the  facred  fauiSVion  of  God  and 
nature  to  the  maiTacres  of  the  Indian  fcalping  knife  ! 
to  the  cannibal  favage,  torturing,  murdering,  roafting, 
and  eating;  literally,  my  lords,  eating  the  mangled 
vi<fVims  of  his  barbarous  battles  !  Such  horrible  notions 
ll'iock  every  precej^t  of  religion,  divine  or  natural,  and 
€very  geaerous  feeling  of  humanity.  And,  my  lords, 
they  fhock  every  fentiment  of  honor ;  they  fhock  me 
as  a  lover  of  honorable  war,  and  a  detefler  of  murder* 
ous  barbarity. 

Thefe  abominable  principles,  and  this  more  abomina- 
ble avowal  of  them,  demand  the  mofb  decifive  indigna- 
don.  I  call  upon  that  Right  Reverend  Bench,thofe  holy 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  157 

mini  iters  of  the  gofpel,  and  pious  pafVors  of  our  Church: 
I  conjure  them  to  join  in  the  holy  work,  and  vindicate 
the  rehgion  of  their  God.  I  appeal  to  the  vvifdom  and 
the  law  of  this  learned  bench ^  to  defend  and  fupport  the 
juftice  of  their  country.  I  call  upon  the  bifliops,  to 
interpofe  tlie  unfullied  fanclity  of  their  lawn ;  upon 
the  learned  judges,  to  interpofe  the  purity  of  their 
ermine,  to  fave  us  from  this  pollution.  I  call  upon  the 
honor  of  your  lordfhlps,  to  reverence  the  dignity  of 
your  anceftors,  and  to  maintain  your  own.  I  call  up- 
on the  fpirit  and  humanity  of  my  country,  to  vindicate 
the  national  character.  I  invoke  the  genius  of  the  con- 
ftitution. 

From  the  tapeftry  that  adorns  tliefe  walls,  the  im- 
mortal ahceftor  of  this  noble  lord  frowns  with  indig- 
nation at  the  difgrace  of  his  country.  In  vain  he  led 
your  victorious  fleets  again  ft  the  boafted  armada  of 
Spain  ;  in  vain  he  defended  and  eftablilhed  the  honor, 
the  liberties,  the  religion,  the  proteftant  religion  of  this 
country,  againft  the  arbitrary  cruelties  of  popery  and 
the  inquifition,  if  thefe  more  than  popii-h  cruelties  and 
inquifitorial  practices  are  let  loofe  among  us ;  to  turn 
forth  into  our  fettlements,  among  our  ancient  con- 
nexions, friends,  and  relations,  the  mercilefs  cannibal, 
thirfting  for  the  blood  of  man,  woman  and  child  !  to 
fend  forth  the  inflJel  favage — againft  y/hom  ?  againft 
your  proteftant  brethren ;  to  lay  wafte  their  country ; 
to  defolate  their  dwellings,  and  extirpate  their  race  and 
name,  with  thefe  horrible  hell-hounds  of  favage  Vf2x ! 

Spain  armed  herfelf  with  blood- hounds,  to  extirpate 
the  wretched  natives  of  America  •,  and  v\^e  improve  011 
the  inhuman  example  even  of  Spanilh  cruelty.  We 
turn  loofe  thefe  favage  hell-hounds  againft  our  breth- 
ren and  countrymen  in  America,  of  the  fame  language, 
laws,  liberties,  and  religion ;  endeared  to  us  by  every 
tie  that  fhould  fanCtify  humanity. 

My  lords,  this  awful  fubje<Sl,  lb  important  to  our 
honor,  our  conftitution,  and  our  religion,  demands  the 
moft  folemn  and  eftedual  inquiry.  And  I  again  call 
O 


153        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

upon  your  lordfliips,  and  the  united  powers  of  tlie 
ftate,  to  examine  it  thoroughly,  and  dccifively,  and  to 
{lamp  upon  it  an  indelible  itigma  of  the  public  abhor- 
rence. And  I  again  implore  thofe  holy  prelates  of  our 
religion,  to  do  away  thefe  iniquities  from  among  us. 
Let  them  perform  a  luftration  ;  let  them  purify  this 
Houfe,  and  this  country  from  this  iin. 

My  lords,  I  am  old  and  weak,  and  at  prefent  una- 
ble to  fay  more  ;  but  my  feelings  and  indignation  were 
too  ffrong  to  have  faid  lefs.  I  could  not  have  flept  this 
night  in  ray  bed,  nor  repofed  my  head  on  my  pillow, 
without  giving  this  vent  to  my  eternal  abhorrence  of 
fuch  prepofterous  and  enormous  principles. 


Dialogue  between  a  School-Master  and 
School-Committee. 

[N.  B.  T/je  Author  is  happy  in  believing.,  that  the  folloiving  Dialogue  is 
applicable  to  but  few  toivns  and  few  teachen  in  this  country  ;  but,  fo  long  as 
there  are  any  remaining  to  ivhom  it  tnay  apply.,  he  thinks  a  fu^cicnt  apology 
ixijls  for  its  publication^ 

SCENE,  a  Public  Houfe i  in  the  Town  of . 

Enter  School-Master,  nvith  a  pack  on  his  back, 

o  r  J  n  .  TTOW  fare  you  landlord  ?  what  have 
'    ri-    yo^  got  that's  good  to  drink  ? 

Landlord.  I  have  gin,  Weft-India,  genuine  New- 
England,  whilkey,  and  cider-brandy. 

Schoolin.  Make  us  a  ftiff  mug  of  fling.  Put  in  a- 
gill  and  a  half  of  your  New-England  j  and  fweeten  it 
well  with  I'-ifles. 

Land.     It  fliall  be  done.  Sir,  to  your  liking. 

Schoohn.  Do  you  know  of  any  vacancy  in  a  fchool 
in  your  part  of  the  country,  landlord  ? 

Land.  There  is  a  vacancy  in  oui-  diftri(fl: ;  and  I  ex- 
pe6t  the  parfon,  with  our  three  fchool- committee  men, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 59 

will  be  at  my  houfe  direftly,  to  confult  upon  matters 
relative  to  the  fchool. 

Schoolm.  Well,  here's  the  lad  that  will  ferve  them 
as  cheap  as  any  man  in  America  *,  and  I  believe  I  may 
venture  to  fay  as  wi'll  too  ;  for  I  prof^^Ts  no  fmall  Ihare 
of  Ikill  in  that  buiinefs.  I  have  kept  fchool  eleven  win- 
ters, and  have  often  had  matter  of  hfty  fchoJars  at  a 
time.  I  have  teach'd  a  child  its  letters  in  a  day,  and 
to  read  in  the  Pialter  in  a  fortnight :  and  I  always  feel 
very  much  afliamed,  if  I  ufe  more  than  one  quire  of 
paper  in  larnin  a  boy  to  write  as  well  as  his  mailer. 
As  for  government,  I'll  turn  my  bach  to  no  man.  I 
never  flog  my  fcholars  ;  for  that  monilrous  doctrine  of 
whippin  children,  which  has  been  fo  long  preached 
and  pracSlIfed  by  our  rigid  and  fuperftitious  forefathers, 
I  have  long  fince  exploded.  I  have  a  rare  knack  of 
jiattering  them  into  their  duty.  And  this,  according 
to  a  celebrated  Do(Stor  at  Philadelphia,  whofe  works  I 
have  heard  of,  though  I  never  read  them,  is  the  grand 
criterion  of  fchool  government.  It  is,  landlord,  it  is 
the  very  philofopher's  ftone.  I  am  told,  likewife,  that 
this  fame  oreat  Doctor  does  not  believe  that  Solomon 
and  others  really  meant  llchiuy  in  the  proper  fenfe  of 
the  word,  when  they  talked  fo  much  about  ufing  the 
rod,  &c.  He  fuppofes,  that  they  meant  confining  them 
in  dungeons  ;  ftarving  them  for  three  or  four  days  at  a 
time  ;  and  then  giving  them  a  potion  of  tatromattucks, 
and  fuch  kinds  of  mild  puniihment.  And,  zounds, 
landlord,  I  believe  he's  above  half  right. 

Land.      [Giving  tide  cup  to  the  majicr.']     Mafter 

What  may  I  call  your  name,  Sir,  if  I  may  be  fo  bold? 

Schoolm.     Ignoramus,  at  your  fervice.  Sir. 

Land.  Mafter  Ignoramus,  I  am  glad  to  fee  you. 
You  are  the  very  man  we  wifli  for.  Our  committee 
won't  helitate  a  moment  to  employ  you,  when  they 
become  acquainted  with  your  talents.  Your  fenti- 
ments  on  government  I  know  will  fuit  our  people  to  a 
nicety.  Our  laft  mafter  was  a  tyrant  of  a  fellow,  and 
very  extravagant  in  his  price.     He  grew  fo  important^ 


i6o         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

the  latter  part  of  his  time,  that  he  had  the  frontery  to 
demand /c7?  dollars  n  month  and  his  board.  And  he 
might  truly  be  Hiid  to  rule  with  a  rod  of  iron ;  for  he 
kept  an  ircfricood  cudgel  in  his  fchool,  four  feet  long ; 
and  it  was  enough  to  chill  one's  blood  to  hear  the 
flirieks  of  the  little  innocents,  which  were  caufed  by 
his  barbarity.  I  have  heard  my  wife  fay,  that  Sue  Gof- 
fip  toki  her,' that  fhe  has  feen  the  marks  of  his  ialhes 
on  the  back  cf  her  neighbour  Rimple's  fon  Darling, 
for  twelve  hours  after  the  drubbing.  At  leaft.  the  boy 
told  her  with  Ills  own  mouth,  that  they  tnigkthz  feen, 
if  they  v.  cukl  oi:Iy  take  the  trouble  to  ftrip  his  ihirt 
oil".  Ahv'.  bcfidtSj  Mafltr  Ignoramus,  he  was  the  mod 
liiggaruly  of  all  the  liuman  race.  I  don'c  fuppofc  that 
my  bar-room  was  one  dollar  the  richer  for  him,  in  the 
courfe  of  the  whole  timfe  which  he  tarried  with  us. 
While  the  young  people  of  the  town  were  recreating 
themfelves,  and  taking  a  fociable  glafs,  of  an  evening, 
at  my  houfe,  the  ftupid  blockhead  was  etarnally  in  his 
chamber,  poring  over  his  mufty  books.  But  finally  he 
did  the  job  for  himfelf,  and  I  am  rejoiced.  The  wretch 
had  the  dacity  to  box  little  Sammy  Puney's  ears  at 
fuch  an  intolerable  rate,  that  his  parents  fear  the  poor 
child  will  be  an  ideot  all  the  days  of  his  life.  And  all 
this,  for  nothing  more,  than,  partly  by  defign,  and  part- 
ly through  mere  accident,  he  happened  to  fpit  in  his 
mafter's  face.  The  child  being  nephew  to  the  'fquire, 
you  may  well  fuppofe,  that  the  whole  neighbourhood 
was  foon  in  an  uproar.  The  indignation  of  the  mother, 
father,  aunts,  uncles,  coulins,  and  indeed  the  whole  cir- 
cle of  acquaintance,  was  roufed  ;  and  the  poor  fellow 
was  hooted  out  of  town  in  leis  than  twenty-four  hours. 
Schoohn.  \_Dii?ihifig  off  his  liquor.~\  This  is  a  rare 
dofc.  Believe  me,  landlord,  I  have  not  tafted  a  drop 
before,  iince  lix  o'clock  this  morning.  [_Enter  Par/on 
and  Committee  Men.'\  Your  humble  farvant,  gentle- 
men. I  undcriland  you  are  in  want  of  a  fchocU 
mafter. 


Tl-f E  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  i6i 

Parfon.  Yes,  Sir  ;  that  is  the  occafion  of  our  pref- 
ent  meeting.  We  have  been  fo  unfortunate  as  to  lofe 
one  good  man ;  and  we  flioukl  be  very  glad  to  find 
another. 

\Ji  Committee  Man,  Pray  don't  fay  unfortunate  Par- 
fon.  1  think  we  may  confider  ourfelves  as  very  for^ 
tunate^  in  having  rid  the  town  of  an  extravagant  cox- 
comb, who  was  draining  us  of  all  the  money  we  could 
earn,  to  fill  his  purfe,  and  rig  himfelf  out  with  fine 
clothes. 

^d  Com.  Ten  dollars  a  month,  and  board,  for  a  ma» 
whofe  tafk  is  fo  eafy,  is  no  fmall  fum. 

3^  Com.  I  am  bold  to  affirm,  that  we  can  procure 
a  better  man  for  half  the  money. 

Schoolm.  That  I  believe,  friend  ;  for,  though  I  efi 
teem  myfelf  as  good  as  the  bell ;  that  is  to  fay,  in  the 
common  way :  yet  I  never  ax'd  but  five  dollars  a 
month  in  all  my  life. 

Par.  For  my  own  part,  whatever  thefe  gentlemen's 
opinion  may  be,  I  muft  tell  you,  that  I  am  much  lefs 
concerned  about  the  wages  we  are  to  give,  than  I  am 
about  the  character  and  abilities  of  the  man  with  whom 
we  intrufi:  the  education  of  our  children.  I  had  much 
rather  you  had  faid  you  had  received  forty  dollars  a 
month,  than  five. 

\Ji  Com.  Dear  Sir,  you  are  befide  yourfelf.  Yon 
will  encourage  the  man  to  rife  in  his  price ;  whereas  I 
was  in  hopes  he  would  have  falUn,  at  lea^l  one  dollar. 

Par.  Before  we  talk  any  further  about  the  price,  it 
is  necefi^ary  that  we  examine  the  gentleman  according 
to  law,  in  order  to.  fatisfy  ourfelves  of  his  capability  to 
ferve  us.  Friend,  will  you  be  fo  obliging  as  to  inform 
us  where  you  received  your  education,  and  what  your 
pretenfions  are,  with  refpe(Sl  to  your  profeilion  ? 

Schoolm,  Law,  Sir  !  I  never  went  to  college  in  my 
life. 

Par.     I  did  not  aflc  you  whether  you  had  been  to 
college  or  not.     We  wifh  to  know  what  education  you 
have  had ;  and  whether  your  abilities  are  fuch,  as  that- 
02 


162         tUE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

you  can  do  ynnrfelf  honor  in  taking  the  charge  of  a 
common  Engiifh  ichool. 

Schcolm.  Gentlemen,  I  will  give  you  a  fhort  hiftory 
of  my  1-fe.  From  feven,  to  fifteen  years  of  age,  I 
went  to  fchool  perhaps  as  much  as  one  year.  In  which 
time,  I  went  througli  Dihvorth's  Spellmg-Book,  the 
Pfalter,  the  New-TeOament ;  and  could  read  the 
newfpLiper  without  fpeliing  more  tlian  half  the  words. 
By  this  time,  feeling  a  little  above  the  common  level, 
I  enlifled  a  fokiier  in  the  army,  where  I  continued  fix 
years ;  and  made  fuch  proficiency  in  the  military  art, 
that  1  was  frequently  talked  of  for  a  corporal.  I  had 
iikewife  larn'd  to  write  confiderably,  and  to  cypher  as 
fur  as  Divifion.  The  multiplication  table  I  had  at  my 
tongue's  end,  and  have  not  forgot  it  to  this  day.  At 
length  receiving  a  fevere  flogging  for  nothing  at  all,  I 
am  not  aihamed  to  own  that  I  deferted,  and  went  into 
cne  of  the  back  fettlements,  and  offered  myfelf  as  a 
teacher.  I  was  immediately  employed  in  thatfervice; 
imd,  though  I  am  obliged  to  fay  it  myfelf,  I  do  afTure 
you  I  foon  became  very  famous.  Since  that  time^ 
which  is  eleven  years,  I  have  followed  the  bufinefs  con- 
fiantly  ;  at  lead,  every  winter ;  for  in  the  fummer,  ie 
is  not  cuflomary  in  the  towns  in  general,  to  continuc- 
-a  man's  fchool.  One  thing  I  would  not  forget  to  men- 
tion •,  and  that  is,  I  have  travelled  about  the  country  ^o 
DiUch,  and  been  in  the  army  fo  long  (which  is  allow- 
ed  to  be  the  bed:  fchool  in  the  world)  that  I  confideir 
myfelf  as  being  thoroughly  acquainted  with  mankind. 
You  will  not  be  infenfible,  gentlemen,  of  what  great 
importance  this  lafl:  acquiiition  is,  to  one  who  has  the 
care  of  youth. 

3^?  Corn,  I  admire  his  converfation.  I  imagine,  by 
this  time,  you  have  cyphered  clear  through  ;  have  yotf 
not,  Sir  ? 

Schoolm.  Why,  as  to  that,  I  have  gone  fo  fur,  that 
I  thought  I  couXdfee  through.  I  can  tell  how  many 
minutes  old  my  great  grandfather  was  when  his  firft 
fon  was  born  j  how  many  barley  corns  it  woulvi  tf\k^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         163 

to  meafure  round  the  world ;  and  how  old  the  world 
will  be  at  the  end  of  fix  thoufand  years  from  the  cre- 
ation. 

ifi  Com.  It  is  very  ftrange  !  You  muft  have  ftudied 
hard,  to  learn  all  thefe  things,  and  that  without  a 
mafier  too. 

Schoolm,  Indeed  I  have,  Sir  ;  and  if  I  had  time,  I 
could  tell  you  things  llranger  itill. 

Par.  Can  you  tell  in  what  part  of  the  world  you 
were  born  ;  whether  in  the  torrid,  frigid,  or  temperate 
zone  ? 

Schoolm.  I  was  not  born  in  the  zoon^  Sir,  nor  in  any 
other  of  the  Weft-India  Iflands  ;  but  I  was  born  in 
New-England,  in  the  ftate  of  New-Jerfey,  and  Com- 
monwealth of  the  United  States  of  America. 

Par.  Do  you  know  how  many  parts  of  fpeech  there 
are  in  the  Englifh  language  ?        ^' 

Schoolm.  How  many  fpeeches  !  Why  as  many  as 
there  are  "  ftars  in  the  fky,  leaves  on  the  trees,  or 
fands  on  the  fea  fhore." 

I/?  Com.  Pleafe  to  let  me  afk  him  a  queftion,  Par- 
fon.      How  many  commandments  are  there  ^ 

Schoolm.  Ten,  Sir;  and  I  knew  them  all  before  I 
went  into  the  army. 

2d  Com.  Can  you  tell  when  the  moon  changes,  by 
the  almanac  ? 

Schoolm.  No  j  but  ril  warrant  you,  I  could  foon  tell 
by  cyphering. 

3J  Com.  How  many  varfes  are  there  in  the  iioth 
Pfalm  ? 

Schoolm.  Ah  !  excufc  me  there,  if  you  pleafe,  Sir  ; 
I  never  meddle  with  pfalmody,  or  metaphyfics. 

Par.  Will  you  tell  me,  my  friend,  what  is  the  dif- 
ference between  the  circumference  and  the  diametet 
of  the  globe  ^ 

Schoolm.  There  you  are  too  hard  for  me  again.  I 
never  larn'd  the  rule  of  circumftance  nor  geometry, 
ril  t^ll  you  what  gentlemen,  I  make  no  pretenfions  to 
miniiier  laraij),  lawyer  larnin,  or  dodor  larnin  j  but 


1 64  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

put  me  upon  your  clear  fchoolmafter  larnin,  and  t  here 
I  am  even  with  you. 

\Jl  Com.  I  am  fatisfied  with  the  gentleman.  He  has 
miffed  but  one  queftion,  and  that  was  fuch  a  metatifical 
one,  that  it  would  have  puzzled  a  Jefuit  himfelf  to  have 
anfwered  it.  Gentlemen,  fliall  the  mafter  withdraw  a 
few  minutes,  for  our  further  confultation  ? 

{Exit  Mafter, 

id  Com.  I  am  much  pleafed  with  the  ftranger.  He 
appears  to  be  a  man  of  wonderful  parts ;  and  I  fhall 
cheerfully  agree  to  employ  him. 

3^/  Com.  For  my  part,  I  don^t  think  we  fhall  find 
a  cheaper  mafter  ;  and  I  move  for  engaging  him  at  once. 

Par.  Gentlemen, how  long  will  you  be  blind  to  your 
own  intereft  ?  I  can  fay  with  you,  that  I  am  perfectly 
fatisfied — that  the  man  i»,  in  his  profeflion,  emphatic- 
ally what  he  calls  himfelf  by  name,  an  ignoramus  ,-  and 
totally  incapable  of  inftrutSting  our  children.  You 
know  not  who  he  is,  or  what  he  is ;  whether  he  be  a 
thief,  a  liar,  or  a  drunkard.  The  very  terms,  on  which 
he  offers  himfelf,  ought  to  operate  as  a  fufficient  ob- 
je(n;ion  againft  him.  I  am  fenfible  that  my  vote  will  now 
be  of  no  avail,  fince  you  are  all  agreed.  I  have  been 
for  years  ftriving  to  procure  a  man  of  abilities  and  mor- 
als, fuitable  for  the  employment ;  and  fuch  a  one  I  had 
obtained  ;  but,  alas  !  we  were  unworthy  of  him.  We 
afperfed  his  charafter ;  invented  a  multitude  of  falfe- 
hoods  \  magnified  every  trifling  error  in  his  conduft  ; 
and  even  converted  his  virtues  into  vices.  We  refufed 
to  give  him  that  pecuniary  reward  which  his  fervices- 
demanded  ;  and  he,  knowing  his  own  worth,  and  our 
unworthinefs,  has  left  us  forever. 

I/?.  Com.  Come,  come,  Parfon,  it  is  eafy  for  falary 
men  to  talk  of  liberalityy  and  to  vote  away  money 
which  they  never  earned  ;  hut  it  won't  do.  The  new 
mafter,  I  dare  engage,  will  do  as  well,  or  better  than 
the  old  one.     Landlord,  call  him  in  for  his  anfwer. 

Par.  I  proteft  againft  your  proceedings,  and  with- 
draw myfelf  forever  from  the  committee.     JBwt  I  mujft 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  165 

tell  you,  your  children  will  reap  the  bitter  eonfequcn- 
ces  of  fuch  injudicious  meafures.  It  has  always  been 
furprifing  to  me,  that  people  in  general  arc  more  will- 
ing to  pay  their  money  for  any  thing  elfe,  than  for 
"  the  ouQ  thing  needful,"  that  is,  for  the  education  of 
their  children.  Their  taylor  muft  be  a  workman,  their 
carpenter,  a  V/orkman,  their  hairdrefTer,  a  workman, 
their  hoftler,  a  workman  ;  but  the  inftrudtor  of  their 

children  mufl work  cbenp  !  \_Ex'U  Parfon. 

Re-enter  School-Master. 

\J}  Com.  We  have  agreed  to  employ  you,  Sir  •,  and 
have  only  to  recommend  to  you,  not  to  follow  the 
fteps  of  your  predecefTor.  This  is  an  "  age  of  reafon  j'* 
and  we  do  not  imagine  our  children  fo  iiiipid,  as  to 
need  the  rod  to  quicken  their  ideas,  or  fo  vicious,  as  to 
require  a  moral  lefTon  from  the  ferule.  Be  gentle  and 
accommodating,  and  you  have  nothing  to  fear. 

Land.  I'll  anfwer  for  him.  He's  as  generous  and 
merry  a  lad  as  I've  had  in  my  houfe  this  many  a  day. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pittas  Speech,  in 
Answer  to  Lord  Mansfield,  on  the  AffaiIr 
OF  Mr.  Wilkes,   1770. 

My  Lords, 

THERE  is  one  plain  maxim,  to  which  I  have  in- 
variably adhered  through  life  ;  that  in  every 
queftion  in  which  my  liberty  or  my  property  were 
concerned,  I  fhould  confult  and  be  determined  by  the 
di<5tates  of  common  fenfe.  I  confefs,  my  lords,  that  I 
am  apt  to  diftruft  the  refinements  of  learning,  becaufe 
I  have  feen  the  ableft  and  the  moft  learned  men  equally 
liable  to  deceive  themfelves,  and  to  miflead  others. 

The  condition  of  human  nature  would  be  lamenta- 
ble indeed,  if  nothing  lefs  than  the  greateft  learning 
and  talents,  which  fall  to  the  fliare  of  fo  fmall  a  num- 
ber of  men,  were  fufficient  to  direct  our  judgment  and^ 


1 66  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

our  conduct.  But  Providence  has  taken  better  care  of 
our  happinefs,  and  given  us,  in  the  limplicily  of  com- 
mon fenfe,  a  rule  for  our  direction,  by  which  we  fliall 
never  be  mifled. 

I  confefs,  my  lords,  I  had  no  other  guide  in  drawing 
up  the  amendment,  which  I  fubmitted  to  your  confid- 
eration.  And  before  I  heard  the  opinion  of  the  noble 
lord  who  fpoke  laft,  I  did  not  conceive,  that  it  was 
even  within  the  limits  of  poffibility  for  the  greateft 
human  genius,  the  moft  fubtlc  underftanding,  or  the 
acuteft  wit,  fo  ftrangely  to  mifreprefcnt  my  meaning  •, 
and  to  give  it  an  interpretation  fo  entirely  foreign  from 
what  I  intended  to  exprefs,  and  from  that  fenfe,  which 
the  very  terms  of  the  amendment  plainly  and  diftindlly 
carry  with  them. 

If  there  be  the  fmalleft  foundation  for  the  cenfurc 
thrown  upon  me  by  that  noble  lord  \  if,  either  expreff- 
ly  or  by  the  moft  diftant  implication,  I  have  faid  or  in- 
iinuated  any  part  of  what  the  noble  lord  has  charged 
me  with,  difcard  my  opinions  forever  ;  difcard  the 
motion  with  contempt. 

My  lords,  I  muft  beg  the  indulgence  of  the  Houfe. 
Neither  will  my  health  permit  me,  nor  do  I  pretend 
to  be  qualified,  to  follow  that  learned  lord  minutely 
through  the  whole  of  his  argument.  No  man  is  better 
acquainted  with  his  abilities  and  learning,  nor  has  a 
greater  refpe61:  for  them,  than  I  have.  I  have  had  the 
pleafure  of  fitting  with  him  in  the  other  Houfe,  and 
always  liftened  to  him  with  attention.  I  have  not  now 
lofl:  a  word  of  what  he  faid,  nor  did  I  ever.  Upon  the 
prefent  queftion,  I  meet  him  without  fear. 

The  evidence,  which  truth  carries  with  it,  is  fupe- 
rior  to  all  arguments ;  it  neither  wants  the  fupport, 
nor  dreads  the  oppofition  of  the  greateft  abilities.  If 
there  be  a  fingle  word  in  the  amendment  to  juftify  the 
interpretation,  which  the  noble  lord  has  been  pleafed 
to  give  it,  I  am  ready  to  renounce  the  whole.  Let  it 
be  read,  my  lords  ;  let  it  fpeak  for  itfelf.  In  what 
Inftance  does  it  interfere  with  the  privileges  of  the 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 67 

Houfe  of  Commons  ?  In  what  refpedl  does  it  quefllon 
their  jiirlfdidtion,  or  fuppofe  an  authority  in  this  Houfe 
to  arraign  the  juftice  of  their  fentence  ? 

I  am  fure  that  every  lord  who  hears  me,  will  bear 
me  witnefs  that  I  faid  not  one  word  touching  the 
merits  of  the  Middlefex  ele<Slion.  Far  from  conveying 
any  opinion  upon  that  matter  in  the  amendment,  I 
did  not,  even  in  difcourfe,  deliver  my  own  fentimcnts 
upon  it.  I  did  not  fay  that  the  Houfe  of  Commons 
had  done  either  right  or  wrong  ;  but  when  his  Maj- 
efty  was  pleafed  to  recommend  it  to  us  to  cultivate 
unanimity  amongft  ourfelves,  I  thought  it  the  duty  of 
this  Houfe,  as  the  great  hereditary  council  of  the 
crown,  to  ftate  to  his  Majefty  the  diftradled  condition 
of  his  dominions,  together  with  the  events  which  had 
Ueftroyed  unanimity  among  his  fubjefts. 

But,  my  lords,  I  ftated  thofe  events  merely  as  fadls, 
without  the  fmallefi:  addition  either  of  cenfure  or  of 
opinion.  They  are  facSts,  my  lords,  which  I  am  not 
only  convinced  are  true,  but  which  I  know  are  indif- 
putably  true. 

Do  they  not  tell  us,  in  fo  many  words,  that  Mr. 
Wilkes,  having  been  expelled,  was  thereby  rendered 
incapable  of  ferving  in  that  Parliament  ?  and  is  it  not 
their  refolution  alone,  which  refufes  to  the  fubje<SV  his 
common  right  ?  The  amendment  fays  farther,  that  the 
ele<rtors  of  Middlefex  are  deprived  of  their  free  choice 
of  a  reprefentative.  Is  this  a  fa<SV,  my  lords  ?  ox  have 
I  given  an  unfair  reprefentation  of  it  ?  Will  any  man 
prefume  to  affirm  that  Colonel  Luttrell  is  the  free 
choice  of  the  electors  of  Middlefex  !  We  all  know  the 
contrary. 

We  all  know  that  Mr.  Wilkes  (whom  I  mention 
without  either  praife  or  cenfure)  was  the  favourite  of 
the  county,  and  chofen,  by  a  very  great  and  acknowl- 
edged majority,  to  reprefent  them  in  Parliament.  If 
the  noble  lord  diflikes  the  manner  in  which  thefe  fa<Sls 
are  ftated,  I  fhall  think  myfelf  happy  in  being  advifed 
by  him  how  to  alter  it.     I  am  very  little  anxious  about 


1 68         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

terms,  provided  the  fubf^aiices  be  preferred  ;  and  tliefe 
are  f^icts,  my  lords,  which  I  am  fnre  will  always  retain 
their 'weight  and  importance,  in  whatever  form  cf  lan- 
guage they  are  defcribed. 

The  conftituticn  of  this  country  has  been  openly  in- 
vaded in  hOi  j  and  I  have  heard,  with  horror  and  af- 
toniihment,  that  very  invaiion  defended  upon  principle. 
V/hat  is  this  myiitrious  power,  undefined  by  law,  un- 
known to  the  fubjecl ;  which  w-e  muft  not  approach , 
without  awe,  nor  fpeak  of  without  reverence  j  which 
no  man  may  queftion,  and  to  which  all  men  muft  fub- 
mit  ?  My  lords,  I  thought  the  llavifh  do6irine  of  paf- 
five  obedience  had  long  fince  been  exploded  :  and, 
when  our  kings  wxre  obliged  to  confefs  that  their  title 
to  the  crov/n,  and  the  rule  of  their  government,  had 
no  other  foundation  than  the  known  laws  of  the  land, 
I  never  expelled  to  hear  a  divine  right,  or  a  divine  in- 
fallibility, attributed  to  any  other  branch  of  the  legif- 
lature. 

My  lords,  I  beg  to  be  underftood.  No  man  refpefls 
the  Houfe  of  Commons  more  than  I  do,  or  would  con- 
tend more  flrenuoufly  than  I  would,  to  preferve  to  them 
their  juft  and  iega:  authority.  Within  the  bounds  pre- 
fcribed  by  the  conftitution,  that  authority  is  necefTary 
to  the  well-being  of  the  people  :  beyond  that  line,  ev- 
ery exertion  of  power  is  arbitrary,  is  illegal ;  it  threat- 
ens tyranny  to  the  people,  and  deftru6lion  to  the  State. 
Power  without  right  is  the  moft  odious  and  dcteftable 
objeiSt  that  can  be  offered  to  the  human  imagination  : 
it  is  not  only  pernicious  to  thofe  who  are  fubjedl  to  it, 
but  tends  to  its  own  deftrudlion. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  169 


On  the    general   Judgment-Day;  from 
Dwight's  Conquest  of  Canaan. 

MID  thefe  dire  fcenes,  more  awful  fcenes  fhaU  rife ; 
Sad  nations  quake,  and  trembling  feize  the  ikics» 
From  the  dark  tomb  fliaii  fearful  lights  afcend, 
And  fijllen  founds  the  fleeping  manfion  rend  5 
Pale  ghofts  with  terror  break  the  dreamer's  charm, 
And  death-Hke  cries  the  liftening  world  alarm. 
Then  midniglit  pangs  fliall  tofs  tlie  cleaving  plains  f, 
Fell  famine  wanton  o'er  unburied  trains  ; 
From  crumbling  mountains  baleful  flames  afpire  ; 
Realms  link  in  floods,  and  towns  diflblve  in  tire  5 
In  every  blaft,  the  fpotted  plague  be  driven, 
And  angry  meteors  blaze  athwart  the  lieaven. 
Clouds  of  dark  blood  fliall  blot  the  fun's  broad  light, 
Sprcadroundth'  immenle,  and  fliroud  the  world  innight; 
With  pale  and  dreadful  ray,  the  cold  moon  gleam  ; 
The  dim,  lone  ftars  diff'ufe  an  anjrulih'd  beam  ; 
Storms  rock  the   fliies ;  afliicled   oceans  roar, 
And  fanguine  billows  die  the  (huddering  fhore  ; 
And  round  earth  thunder,  from  the  Almighty  throne, 
The  voice  irrevocable,  IT  IS  DONE. 

Rous'd  on  the  fearful  morn,  fhall  nature  hear 
The  trump's  deep  terrors  rend  the  troubled  air ; 
From  realm  to  realm  the  found  tremendous  roll;; 
Cleave  the  broad  main,  and  fliake  th'  aftonifli'd  pole  ; 
The  flumbering  bones  th'  archangel's  call  infpire ; 
Rocks  fink  in  duft,  and  earth  be  wrap'd  in  fire  j 
From  reahiis  far  diflant,  orbs  unnumber'd  come, 
Sail  through  immenfity,  and  learn  their  doom  5 
And  all  yon  changelefs  ftars,  that,  thron'd  on  high, 
Reign  in  immortal  luflre  round  the  flcy, 
In  folemn  filence  fhroud  their  living  light. 
And  leave  the  world  to  undiftiugufli'd  night. 

Hark,  what  dread  founds  defcending  from  the  p  )le. 
Wave  following  wave,  in  fwelling  thunders  roll  *, 
P 


T 70  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

How  the  tombs  cleave  !  What  awful  forms  arife  ! 
What  crowding  nations  pain   the   failing  eyes  ! 
From  land  to  land  behold  the  mountains  rend  ; 
From   fliore  to  fhore   the   final  flames  afcend  *, 
Round  the  dark  poles  with  boundlefs  terror  reign, 
With  bend  immeafurable  fweep  the  main  ; 
From  morn's  far  kingdom  ftretch  to  realms  of  even, 
And  climb  and  climb  with  folemn  roar  to  heaven. 
What  fmoaky  ruins  wrap  the  lefTening  ground ! 
What  fiery  fheets  fail  through  the  vaulted  round  ! 
Pour'd  in  one  mafs,  the  lands  and  feas  decay  j 
Involv'd,  the  heavens,  diflblving,  fleet  away  5 
The  moon  departs  •,  the  fun's  laft  beams  expire. 
And  nature's  buried   in  the  boundlefs   fire. 
Lo,  from  the  radiance  of  the  blefs'd  abode 
Mefiiah  comes,  in  all  the  pomp  of  God  ! 
Borne  on  fwift  winds,  a  ftorm  before  him  flies  j 
Stars  crown  his  head,  and  rainbows  round  him  rife  } 
Beneath  his  feet  a  fun's  broad  terrors  burn, 
And  cleaving  darknefs  opes  a  dreadful  morn  : 
Through  boundlefs  fpace  careering  flames  are  driven  ; 
Truth's  facred  hofts  defcend,  and  alb  the   thrones  of 

•heaven. 
See  crowding  millions,  calFd  from  earth's  far  ends, 
See  hell's  dark  world,  with  fearful  gloom,  afcends, 
In  throngs  incomprehenfible  !   Aroun-d, 
Worlds  after  worlds,  from  nature's  fartheft  bound, 
Call'd  by  th'  archangel's  voice  from  either  pole, 
Self-mcv'd,  with  all  created  nations,  roll. 
From  this  great  train,  his  eyes  the  jufl:  divide, 
Price  of  his  life,  and  being's  falreft  pride; 
Rob'd  by  his  mighty  hand,  the  fl:arry  throngs 
From  harps  of  transport  call  ecfl:atic  fongs. 
Flail,  heirs  of  endlefs  peace  !  ordain'd  to  rove 
Round  the  pure  climes  of  everlafting  love. 
For  you  the  fun  firfi;  led  the  lucid  morn ; 
The  world  was  fafhion'd  and  Mefliah  born  ; 
I'or  you  high  heaven  with  fond  impatience  waits. 
Pours  her  fair  ftreams,  and  opes  her  golden  gates  ^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  17 1 

Each  hour,  with  purer  glory,  gaily  fliiiies, 
Her  courts  enlarges,  and  her  air  refines. 

But  O  unhappy  race  !  to  woes  coniign'd, 
Lur'd  by  fond  pleafure,  and  to  wifdom  blind, 
What  new  Mefliah  (hall  the  fpirir  ilive, 
Stay  the  pent  flames,  and  Ihut  th'  eternal  grave  ? 
Where  fleeps  the  muiic  of  his  voice  divine  ? 
Where  hides  the  face,  that  could  To  fweetly  fliinc  ? 
Now  hear  that  flighted  voice  to  thunder  turn  ! 
•See  that  mild  face  with  flames  of  vengeance  burn  ! 
High  o'er  your  heads  the  florm  of  ruin  roars. 
And,  round  th'  immenfe,  no  friend  your  fate  deplore?. 

Lo,  there  to  endleis  woe  in  throngs  are  driven. 
What  once  were  angels,  and  bright  {lars-,pf  heaven  1 
The  world's  gay  pride  !  the  king  with  fplendor  crown'd  ! 
The  chief  reflftlefs,  and  the  fage  renown'd  ! 
Down,  down,  the  millions  fink  ;  where  yon  brbad  main 
Heaves  her  dark  waves,  and  fpreads  the  feats  of  pain  •, 
Where  long,  black  clouds,  emblaz'd  with  awful  fire, 
Pour  fuUen  round  their  heads,  and  in  dread  gloom  retire. 


On  the  Works  of  Creation  and  Provi- 
dence. 

WHEN  I  contemplate  thofe  ample  and  magnifi- 
cent flru<5tures,  eredled  over  all  the  ethereal 
plains  :  when  I  look  upon  them  as  fo  many  repofito- 
ries  of  light,  or  fruitful  abodes  of  life  :  when  I  remem- 
ber that  there  may  be  other  orbs,  valtly  more  remote 
than  thofe  which  appear  to  our  unaided  flght ;  orbs, 
whofe  effulgence,  though  travelling  ever  fince  the  cre- 
ation, is  not  yet  arrived  upon  our  coafts  :  when  I  flretch 
my  thoughts  to  the  innumerable  orders  of  being,  which 
inhabit  all  thofe  fpacious  fyfl:ems  •,  from  the  loftiefl:  fer- 
aph,  to  the  lovvefl  reptile  •,  from  the  armies  of  angels 
which  furround  the  Almighty's  throne,  to  the  puny  na- 
tions, which  tinge  with  purple  the  furface  of  the  plum^ 
Qr  mantle  the  fl:anding  pool  with  green  ;  how  various 


172         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

nppear  the  links  of  this  immeafurable  chain  !  howvaft 
the  gradations  in  this  univerfal  fcale  of  exiftence  !  Yet 
all  thefe,  though  ever  fo  vaft  and  various,  are  the  work 
of  the  Creator's  hand,  and  are  full  of  his  prefence. 

He  rounded  in  his  palm  thofe  ftupendous  globes, 
w  Iiich  are  pendulous  in  the  vault  of  Heaven.  H?  kin- 
dled thofe  aftonifhing  bright  fires,  which  fill  the  firma* 
mcnt  with  a  flood  of  glory.  By  Him  they  are  fuipend- 
ed  in  fluid  ether,  and  cannot  be  fluaken  :  by  Him  they 
difpenfe  a  perpu:tual  tide  of  btams,  and  are  never  ex- 
.'.auftcd.  He  formed,  with  inexprefliblc  nicety,  thaC 
dclica:ci y  fj"C  conection  of  tubes  ;  that  unknown  mul- 
tiplicity of  fiibtile  fprings,  which  organize  and  actuate, 
the  frame  rS  the  minutefl  infedl. 

He  bids  the  crimfon  current  roll ;  the  vital  move- 
ments play  ;  and  aiTociates  a  world  of  wonders,  even  in 
an  animated  point.  In  all  thefe  is  a  fignal  exhibition 
of  creating  power  ;  to  all  thefe  are  extended  the  fpecial 
regards  of  prefer ving  goodnefs.  From  hence  let  me 
learn  to  rely  on  the  providence,  and  to  revere  the  pref- 
ence, of  Supreme  Majefty.  Amidft  that  inconceivable 
number  and  variety  of  beings,  which  fwarm  through 
the  regions  of  creation,  not  one  is  overlooked,  not  one 
is  negleded,  by  the  great  Omnipotent  Caufe  of  all. 


S'PEF.cH  OF  IvIf..  Fox,  in  the  British  Par* 

I.IAMCNT,  ON  American  Afx^airs,   1778. 

YOU  have  now  two  wars  before  you,  of  which  yoji 
_^  nrull:  choofe  one,  for  both  you  cannot  fupport. 
The  war  againft  America  has  hitherto  been  carried  on 
againll  lier  alone,  unalliiled  by  any  ally  whatever.  Not- 
withilanding  Ihe  flood  alone,  you  have  been  obliged 
uniforraly  to  increafe  your  exertions,  and  to  pufli  your 
efforts  to  the  extent  of  your  power,  without  being  able 
to  bring  it  to  an  iljlie.  You  have  exerted  all  your  force 
hitherto  without  efFe<5l,  and  you  cannot  now  divide  a 
force  found  ah'eady  inadec^uate  to  its  objedh 


TriE  dOLLfiViBIAN  ORATOR.  173 

My  opinion  Is  for  withdrawing  your  forces  from 
America  entirely  ;  for  a  defenfivc  war  you  can  never 
think  of  there.  A  defenfive  war  would  ruin  this  nation 
at  any  time  ;  and  in  any  circumftances,  offenfive  war 
is  pointed  out  as  proper  for  this  country  ;  our  Htuation 
points  it  out ;  and  the  fpirit  of  the  nation  impels  us 
to  attack  rather  than  defend.  Attack  France,  then,  for 
fhe  is  your  obje(ft.  The  nature  of  the  wars  is  quite  dif- 
ferent :  the  war  againft  America  is  againd:  your  own 
countrymen  ;  you  have  (lopped  me  from  fiiying  again/t 
your  fellow-fubjedls ;  that  again  ft  France  is  againft  your 
inveterate  enemy  and  rival.  Every  blow  you  ftrike  in 
America  is  againft  yourfelves ;  it  is  againft  all  idea  of 
reconciliation,  and  againft  your  own  inteireft,  though 
you  fhould  be  able,  as  you  never  will  be,  to  force  them 
to  fubmit.  Every  ftroke  againft  France  is  of  advantage 
to  you  :  America  muft  be  conquered  in  France  •,  France 
never  can  be  conquered  in  America. 

The  war  of  the  Americans  is  a  war  of  paftion  ;  it  is  of 
fuch  a  nature  as  to  be  fupported  by  the  moil  powerful 
virtues,  love  of  liberty  and  of  their  country  ;  and,  at  the 
fame  time,  by  thofe  paffions  in  the  human  heart  which 
give  courage,  ftrength,  and  perfeverance  to  man  ;  the 
fpirit  of  revenge  for  the  injuries  you  have  done  them  ; 
of  retaliation  for  the  hardihips  you  have  inflicted  on 
them  ;  and  of  oppofition  to  the  unjuft  powers  you  have 
exercifed  over  them.  Every  thing  combines  to  animate 
them  to  this  war,  and  fuch  a  war  is  v/ithout  end  j  for 
whatever  obftinacy,  enthufiafm  ever  infpired  man  with, 
you  will  now  find  in  America.  No  matter  what  gives 
birth  to  that  enthufiafm  •,  whether  the  name  of  religion 
or  of  liberty,  the  effects  are  the  fame  ;  it  infpires  a  fpirit 
which  is  unconquerable,  and  folicitous  to  undergo  dif- 
ficulty, danger  and  hardlhip  :  and  as  long  as  there  is  a 
man  in  America,  a  being  formed  fuch  as  we  are,  ypu 
will  have  him  prefent  himfelf  againft  you  in  the  field. 

The  war  of  France  is  a  war  of  another  fort  -y  the  war 
of  France  is  a  war  of  intereft  :  it  was  her  intereft  which 
firft  induced  her  to  engage  in  it,  and  it  is  by  that  inter- 
p  2 


174         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

eft  that  fhc  will  meafure  its  continuance.  Turn  you^ 
fiice  at  once  againft  her ;  attack  her  wherever  ihe  is 
expofed  •,  cruih  her  commerce  wherever  you  can  ;  make 
lier  feel  heavy  and  immediate  diftrefs  throughout  the 
nation  :  the  people  will  foon  cry  out  to  their  govern- 
ment. '  Whilfl:  the  advantages  Ihe  promlfes  herfelf  are 
remote  and  uncertain,  inflicl:  prefent  evils  and  diftreiTes 
upon  her  fubje<fls  :  the  people  will  become  difcontented 
and  clamorous  ;  flie  will  find  it  a  bad  bargain,  having 
entered  into  this  buflnefs  ;  and  you  will  force  her  to 
defert  any  ally  that  brings  fo  much  trouble  and  diftrels 
upon  her. 

What  is  become  of  the  ancient  fpirit  of  this  nation  ? 
Where  is  the  national  fpirit  that  ever  did  honor  to  this 
country  ?  Have  the  prefent  miniftry  fpent  that  too, 
with  alniolt  the  laft  fhilling  of  your  money  ?  Are  they 
notailiained  of  the  temporizing  conduct  %j/tty  have  ufed 
'towards  France  ?  Her  correfpondence  with  America 
lias  been  clandeftine.  Compare  that  with  their  conduct 
ic wards  Holland,  fome  time  ago  ;  but  it  is  the  ciuirac- 
tfiifcic  cf  little  minds  to  be  exact  in  little  things,  whiH]: 
tlicy  Ihrik  from  their  rights  in  great  ones. 

The  condud  of  France  is  called  clandeftine  :  look 
back  but  a  year  ago  to  a  letter  from  one  of  your  Sec- 
retaries of  State  to  Holland  5  **  it  is  with  furprife  and 
indignation"  your  conduct  is  feen,  in  fomething  done 
by  a  petty  governor  of  an  ifland,  while  they  afFedl  to 
call  the  meafures  of  France  clandeftine.  This  is  the 
v/ay  that  minfters  fupport  the  chara<fler  of  the  nation, 
and  the  national  honor  and  glory.  But  look  again  how, 
that  fame  Holland  is  fpoken  of  to-day.  Even  in  yoqr 
correfpondence  with  her  your  littlenefs  appears. 

From  this  you  may  judge  of  your  fituation  ;  from 
this  you  may  know  what  a  ftate  you  are  reduced  to. 
How  will  the  French  party  in  Holland  exult  over  you, 
and  grow  ftrong  !  She  will  never  continue  your  ally, 
when  you  meanly  crouch  to  France,  and  do  not  dare 
to  ftir  in  your  defence  !  But  it  Is  nothing  extraordinary 
that  Ihe  ILould  not,  while  you  keep  the  j[iymft;€rs  you 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  175 

kave.  No  power  in  Europe  is  blind  *,  there  is  none 
blind  enough  to  ally  itfelf  with  weaknefs,  and  be- 
come partner  in  bankruptcy ;  there  is  no  one  blind 
enough  to  ally  themfelves  to  obftinacy,  abfurdity,  and 
imbecility. 


The  Conjurer,  a  Dialogue. 

Richard  and  Jack. 

"V  h'WT^^  a  ftrange  man  this  is,  Richard! 
^  ^  *  \  Y      Di<i  you  ever  fee  a  conjurer  before  ? 

Richard.  There  was  one  travelled  this  way  before 
your  remembrance  J  but  he  miiTed  his  figure  very  much. 
I  was  to  have  been  an  officer  before  this  time,  accord- 
ing to  his  predictions ;  and  you,  Jack,  were  to  have 
had  a  fine  rich  young  lady  for  your  fi Iter-in-law.  But 
he  was  only  an  apprentice  in  the  art ;  no  more  than 
A,  B,  C,  to  this  man. 

Jack,  Aye,  he  is  mafter  of  his  trade,  I  warrant 
you.  I  dare  fay,  when  father  comes  home,  he  can  tell 
him  which  way  the  thief  is  gone  with  our  old  Trot, 
Uncle  Blufter  is  coming  over  here  this  evening  to  find 
out  who  has  got  his  watch.  The  conjurer  is  juft 
gone  out  to  look  at  the  ftars.  I  fuppofe,  after  he  has 
viewed  them  awhile,  he  will  caft  a  figure  in  his  great 
black-art  book  in  the  other  room,  and  tell  in  a  trice 
what  things  are  flolen,  and  where  they  are,  to  a  hair's 
breadth. 

Rich.  He  muft  have  a  hawk's  eye  to  fee  the  ftafs 
this  evening.  Why  don't  you  know,  Jack,  it  is  cloudy 
out  a'doors  ? 

Jack.  That's  nothing  with  him.  He  could  look 
through  the  clouds  with  his  glafs,  if  it  was  as  dark  as 
Egypt,  as  eafy  as  you  can  look  into  the  other  room  j 
or,  if  he  had  a  mind,  he  could  brufh  away  the  clouds 
in  a  trice,  with  that  long  wand  he  carries  in  his  hand. 

Rich.  No  doubt  he  is  a  great  almanac  maker.  I'll 
be  bound  ii^  could  foretel  the  weather  to  a  tittle  fpr  a 


1 76         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

thoufand  years  to  come.     I  wifli  I  knew  the  tenth  part 
as  much  about  the  planets  as  he  does. 

Jach»  So  do  I.  Don't  you  think  our  neighbours 
could  hire  him  to  keep  our  fchool,  inflead  of  Mafter 
Thinkwell  ?  I  believe  he  has  fifty  times  as  much  learn- 
ing. Aunt  Betty  told  me  this  afternoon,  that  he  knew 
every  ftar  in  the  fky  as  well  as  I  do  the  cattle  in  our 
ftable ;  and  that  he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  every 
crook  and  turn  in  the  milky-way,  as  I  am  with  the 
road  to  mill.  They  fay  he  rode  round  to  all  the  plan- 
'■ets  one  night,  in  a  chaife  made  of  moonlight,  drawn 
by  flying  horfes. 

Conjurer.  {Without^  in  a  grum  holloiv  voice.']  Hoc 
noxe  conventio  planetorum  tenetur  eft  in  domus  Jo- 
vum. 

Ric^.  Hark !  he  is  going  by  the  window  :  don't 
you  hear  him  talking  to  himfelf  ? 

Jack.  What  a  ftrange  language  he  ufes  !  He  is 
talking  to  the  man  in  the  moon,  I  dare  fay.  He  will 
go  into  the  back  room  and  caft  a  figure  now  :  I  will 
look  through  the  key-hole  and  fee  him.      ^Exit  Jack. 

Rich,     \_Soliis.']  What  a  prodigious  learned  nan  this 
conjurer  muft  be  !  I  fhould  fuppofe  he  had  read  all  the 
books  in  the  world,  and  converled  with  fpirits  a  hun- 
dred years,  to  know  as  much  as  he  does. 
Enter  Thinkwell. 

I  am  glad  to  fee  you,  Mafter  Thinkwell.  Have  you 
heard  the  rare  news  of  the  conjurer  that  is  come  to 
town  ? 

ThinkweiL  Yes  ;  and  I  am  informed  he  has  taken 
up  lodgings  at  your  houfe  to-night.  You  are  greatly 
honored  to  be  fure. 

Rich.  He  is  a  very  extraordinary  man,  FU  afTure  you. 

Think.  So  far  I  agree  with  you,  Richard.  I  believe 
he  is  an  extraordinary  man,  and  an  extraordinary  iiji- 
poftor  too. 

Rich.  You  are  always  on  the  fide  of  contraries,  Maf- 
ter Thinkwell  5  but  every  body  is  not  of  fo  ftubborn 
faith  as  you.    Why,  there  is  as  great  a  Air  in  town  jis 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  177 

there  was  when  Prince  Edward  went  through  it.  All 
the  ladles  are  as  much  in  the  fidgets  to  fee  the  con- 
jurer, as  they  were  to  fee  him. 

Think.  It  is  much  eafier  to  account  for  thefe  things 
than  to  juftify  them.  We  fliall  always  adl  bsneath  our- 
felves,  while  we  look  up  to  worthlefs  wretches  as  our 
fuperiours.  Prince  Edward  was  certainly  no  more  than 
a  man.  This  conjurer,  in  my  opinion,  is  much  lefs:  I 
confider  him  beneath  contempt.  I  am  as  great  a 
friend  to  mirth  as  yourfelf :  but  it  is  really  mortifying 
that  my  friends  fliould  be  fo  anxious  to  make  them- 
felves  the  objedls  of  ridicule. 

Rich,  This  is  your  old  ftrain,  Mafter  Thinkwell. 
I  know  you  are  apt  to  get  round  me  in  your  arguments  ; 
but  I  believe  the  conjurer  knows  much  more  than  both 
of  us.  I  might  go  to  you  to  learn  grammar,  arithmetic, 
and  the  common  branches  that  are  taught  at  fchool ; 
but  I  fhall  go  to  him  to  have  my  fortune  told. 

Think.  Have  patience  j  and  time,  the  only  true 
fortune-teller,  will  difilofe  the  future,  without  any  pay, 
faft  enough  for  your  happinefs  or  profit.  Let  me  ad- 
vife  you  to  lay  out  your  money  for  more  valuable  com- 
modities than  fuch  grofs  impofition.  Believe  me,  Rich- 
ard, this  man  was  never  admitted  into  the  cabinet  of 
futurity  any  more  than  you  or  I,  and  knows  no  more 
of  the  events  of  to-morrow,  next  day,  or  next  year, 
than  the  ourang-outang. 

Rich.'.  All  our  neighbours  think  very  differently. 
He  has  told  Mrs.  Primble  where  fhe  may  find  her  fil- 
vcr  fpoon  ;  and  Sam  Hodkins,  the  very  day  he  is  to  be 
married  j  and  the  very  firft  moment  he  caft  his  eyes  on 
Bill  Blunder's  face,  he  faw  the  fear  on  his  foot,  and 
told  Ixim  he  had  been  wounded  with  an  axe. 

Think.  Depend  on  it,  Richard,  it  is  all  grofs  impo- 
fition. What  carelefs  lad  is  there,  who  ufes  an  axe, 
that  has  not  a  fear  on  his  feet  ? 

Rich.  If  a  man  of  common  learning  can  foretel  what 
is  pafi:,  I  don't  fee,  for  my  part,  why  a  conjurer  may 


178         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

not  foretel  what  is  to  come.     ^Knocking  at  the  door.'\ 
Ah !  Aunt  Betty  Wrinkle,  I  know  by  her  rap. 
Enter  Betty  Wrinkle. 

Betty.  How  do  you  do,  Richard  ?  a  word  with 
you,  if  you  pleafe,  coufin.  \To  Richard.  They  go  tQ 
the  other  fide  of  the  room.']  Is  the  fortune-teller  at  your 
houfe,  Richard  ? 

Rich.     He  is  cafting  a  figure  in  the  back  room. 

Betty.  Can  I  fee  him  ?  I  wifh  to  afk  him  a  few  quef- 
tions  in  private. 

Entei'  Mrs.  Credulous  afid  Jack,  iti  hafe. 

Mrs.  Credulous.  Law,  fift^r  Betty  !  I  am  glad  to  fee 
you  !  I  am  half  frighted  out  of  my  fenfes  ! 

Betty.     What  is  the  matter,  fifter  ? 

Mrs.  Cred.  I  have  been  looking  through  the  key- 
hole to  fee  the  conjurer.  I  believe  there  is  a  fpell  of 
enchantment  upon  him !  The  room  will  be  full  of 
Ipirits  in  five  minutes  ! 

Betty.  O,  don't  be  frighted,  fifter  •,  if  he  can  conjure 
them  up,  he  can  conjure  them  down  again.  He  won't 
let  them  hurt  you.  I  fhouldn't  be  afraid  to  go  right 
into  the  room  among  them,  not  I. 

Rich.  If  they  were  to  come  in  the  fhape  of  widow- 
ers or  old  bachelors,  perhaps  you  would  not. 

Betty.  Law,  how  you  joke,  coufin.  {Cuffing  his  ears, 

Mrs.  Cred.  This  is  no  jeft:ing  matter,  I  afihre  you. 
I  could  fee  plainly  the  candle  burnt  blue ;  there  was  a 
circle  of  fire  nound  his  head,  and  it  began  to  fmoke 
out  of  his  mouth  and  nofe. 

Betty.  Poll !  nothing  more  than  his  breath,  I  dare  fay. 

fack.  And  I  thought  I  faw  the  fliadow  of  a  fpirit. 
The  cat  faw  it  too ;  for  fhe  looked  as  wild  as  though 
ihe  would  fly  out  of  the  window. 

Betty.  Well,  you  won't  frighten  me.  I  am  determin- 
ed to  fee  him,  if  he  breathes  nothing  but  fire  and  fmoke. 

Conj.  \_Speakifig  loud  in  the  other  room.~\  Horum 
quorum  fpiritorum,  veniunto  ! 

Mrs.  Cred.  Law  me !  the  very  ghofis  are  come 
now  !  he  is  talking  to  them= 


I 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 79 

Think,  They  will  never  underftand  him  unlefs  he 
rdfes  better  Latin. 

Mrs.  Cred,  O,  good  Mafter  Thinkwell !  you  can 
talk  Latin ;  do  go  and  pray  them,  for  mercy's  fake ! 
befeech  them  to  leave  the  houfe.     Do,  quick  ! 

Think.  Do  compofe  yourfelf,  Mrs.  Credulous  :  there 
are  no  worfe  fpirits  here  than  ignorance  and  folly ;  and 
they,  of  all  others,  are  the  mofl:  incorrigible.  If  you 
pleafe,  I  will  go  and  turn  this  fcape-galiows  out  of  your 
houfe,  and  put  an  end  to  your  fears.  [Going. 

Mrs.  Cred.  O,  flop  !  don't  think  of  fuch  a  thing 
for  the  world.  If  you  fhould  affront  him,  he  would 
raife  a  tempeft  and  carry  the  houfe  away  in  a  minute. 
Mercy  on  me  !  he  knows  what  you  have  faid  now  ! 
how  dark  it  grows  !  O,  the  wind  begins  to  rife  !  I  will 
leave  the  houfe  !  we  fhall  all  be  flying  in  the  air  in  an 
inftant ! 

Rich.  Don't  be  fo  terrified,  ma'am.  I  don't  hear 
any  wind. 

Jack.  I  do  ;  and  fee  it  too.  [Looking  out  at  the  ivin- 
doiv.']     Dear  me  !  how  black  it  is  ! 

Betty.  You  are  very  much  frighted,  fifler.  For 
my  part,  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  conjurer,  or  any  other 
man. 

Rich.  You  were  never  quite  fo  fhy  of  them  as  they 
are  of  you* 

Betty.     Shy  of  me  I 

Mrs.  Cred.  Well,  you  muft  all  take  care  of  your- 
felves.  I  will  run  over  to  Mr.  Redtor's  the  minifter. 
He  may  fave  the  houfe  ;  he  is  a  good  man.  What 
would  I  give,  if  I  had  never  {^tn  this  wicked  conjurer ! 
[Going  out  of  the  door."]  Mercy  !  the  ground  rifes  up 
under  my  feet ;  I  can  almofl  hear  it  thunder !  Dear 
me,  I  fhall  meet  a  fpirit !  Mafter  Thinkwell,  you  are 
not  apt  to  be  frighted ;  do  go  with  me  to  the  minif- 
ter's. 

Think  At  your  requefl  I  will.  For  your  credlt*s 
fake,  compofe  yourfelves,  and  not  let  tliis  fhameful  af- 
fair be  related  abroad.  [Exit  ThinkwelL 


I  So         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

Betty,  Tm  fure  I  don't  fee  any  caufe  for  all  this 
flutteration. 

Jack.  I  believe  I  was  more  feared  than  hurt.  The 
cat,  I  fee,  has  got  over  her  fright :  fhe  is  playing  in  the 
entry  as  fprightiy  as  you,  aunt  Betty. 

Betty.  Well  faid,  Tack.  ^Patting  his  cheeks.']  Do 
you  think  I  could  fpeak  with  the  conjurer  now,  Rich- 
ard ?  ^ 

Rich.     I   fee  nothing  of  any  fpirits  yet.     We  will 
^venture  to  go  and  fee  what  he  is  about. 

[They  go  cut  of  the  room. 

SCENE  changes]  iff  id  dif covers  the  cotijurer  Jittiftg  at  a  ta- 
ble, and  making  charaBers  in  a  large  hook.      He  rifcSy 
tales  his  ivand,  and  moves  it  Jlowly  round  a  large  circle y 
draivn  on  the  jloor,  and  filled  with  characlers. 
Betty.     \_Advancing  Jlowly. ~\     Law  me,  my  heart  is  in 

my  mouth  !  I  dare  not  fpeak  to  him.     \_8he  Jlands  and 

looks  on  him,  and  on  Richard  and  Jack  at  the  other  fide  of 

the  room,  alternatelyJ] 

Conj.     Horum  charadtarius  in  hoc  circulum  omnes 

planetorum  atque  eorum  inhabitantibufque  redo  repre- 

ientur  ;  et  atque  genii  fpiritorumque. 

Betty.     Blefs  me  !  what  a  world  of  learning  he  has  ! 

I  can't  underftand  a  word  he  fays. 

Jack.     [To  Richard.]     That  circle  is  full  of  fpirits,  I 

fuppofe.     He  has  made  them  put  on  their  coats  of  air 

that  we  might  not  fee  them. 

Conj.     I  perceive,  lady,  by  the  myftic  characters  of 

this  circle,  you  approach  this  way  to  inquire  into  the 

occult  myfteries  of  fate,  and  to  know  of  me  your  future 

deftiny. 

Betty.  He  knows  my  very  thoughts.  [Aftde,]  Learn- 
ed Sir,  be  fo  good  as  to  take  this,  and  anfwer  me  a  few 

queftions  I  fliall  alk  you. 

[Offering  him  a  piece  of  money, 
Conj.     You  muft  firft  anfwer  me  a  few  queftions. 

Your  name,  madam  ? 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 3 1 

Betty,     Elizabeth  Wrinkle,  at  your  fcrvice,  Sir. 

Co?}'/.  [Writujg  her  name  'm  his  book.^  Do  you  rec- 
ollecl  whether  the  day  that  Burgoyne  was  captured 
was  dear  or  cloudy  ? 

Betty.  That  was  quite  before  my  remembrance,  Sir. 
{^Lookitig  in  a  glafs.']  I  am  fure  nobody  could  take  me 
for  more  than  twenty-five.  \_AJide. 

Conj.     I  am  not  to  be  deceived,  madam. 

Looking  out  at  the  windoiu  through  his  glafs. 

Jack.  {To  Richard.']  Hark  !  we  Ihall  know  her 
age  now.  He  looks  clear  through  time,  with  that  glafs, 
as  cafy  as  you  can  look  through  a  key-hole. 

Betty.     Good  Sir,  don't  expofe  mc  !   pray  fpeak  low. 

Conj.     Young  men,  withdraw,  and  fhut  that  door. 
{Richard  and  'Jack  have  the  room. 

I  told  you  I  was  not  to  be  deceived.  You  were  bom 
Anno  Domini,  one  thoufand  {t\QA\  hundred  and  — 

Betty.  Law  me  !  how  fliould  he  know  i  was  born 
in  fifty-five  }  The  treacherous  fiars  n;iuft  have  betray- 
ed me  ;  not  my  looks,  I  am  fure.  {AJide, 

Conj..  I  tell  you  furthermore,  the  very  man,  whom 
the  fates  had  fmgled  out  for  your  hulband,  by  the  fatal 
deftiny  of  the  ftars,  was  flain  at  the  taking  of  JBurgoyne. 

Betty.  Dear  me  !  O  cruel  ftars,  and  more  cruel 
Britons  !  how  many  hufbands  and  wives  have  ye  fep- 
arated  !  Were  it  not  for  you,  I  fhould  have  been  mar- 
ried twenty  years  ago.  But  fince  the  fates  have  been 
fo  very  cruel,  don't  you  think  they  will  be  fo  kind  as 
to  provide  me you  know  what  I  mean,  Mr.  Con- 
jurer. 

Conj,     Another  hufband.     I  will  inquire. 

{Moving  his  luand  round  the  circle. 
Enter  Mr.  Credulous  and  Bluster. 

Betty,  Law,  brotlier,  you  have  come  in  the  very 
nick  of  time.  I  was  juft  going  to  aflc  the  Conjurer 
about  your  horfe. 

Conj.  By  the  myfterious  numbers  of  this  circle,  and 
thb  hidden  virtue  of  this  wand,  I  perceive  you  have 
loft  a  horfe. 


1 82  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Cred.  You  have  cafl  your  figure  right.  My  poor 
Trot  has  been  gone  ever  lince  the  twentieth  day  of 
June. 

Conj,  \_Movwg  his  ivatid  ever  the  circle,  and  touching 
particular  characlers.~\  Aries,  Taurus,  Gemini,  Cancer  j 
ihat  is  it  precifely.  You  are  under  a  Httle  miftake. 
Sir ;  it  was  on  the  twentieth  flight  of  June. 

Bluftcr,  You  are  right,  you  are  right,  Mifter  Con- 
jurer.    The  fame  night  I  had  my  watch  ftolen. 

Conj.  Aries,  March  ;  Taurus,  April ;  Gemini,  May  ; 
Cancer,  June.  On  the  night  of  June  twentieth,  pre- 
cifely at  twenty-tiiree  minutes  paif  twelve,  the  horfe 
was  ftolen  from  your  pafture,  by  a  thief. 

Bhijt.  There,  brother  Credulous,  you  have  it  as 
exaft  as  the  multiplication  table. 

Cred.  Strange  what  learning  will  do  !  [Giving  a 
piece  of  money  to  the  Co?ywer,']  Nov/,  Sir,  be  fo  good  as 
to  tell  me  v/here  the  horfe  is,  and  how  I  fhall  find  the 
very  thief.     Rafcal !  I  fliail  have  you  now. 

[To  himfelf, 

ConJ.  [lilahing  charartcrs  in  his  hok.2  The  ftars 
are  inaufpicious  at  prefent.  Mercury,  the  patron  of 
thieves,  bears  rule  to-night.  I  fhall  be  able  to  detect 
him  to-morrow.  Hah  !  that  is  a  lucky  figure.  Quod 
erat  demonflrandum.  I  have  got  a  clue  to  the  watch 
in  fpite  of  Mercury. 

Bir/ff.  Put  me  in  a  way  of  finding  it,  and  you  fhall 
be  well  paid.  We  muft  fecure  our  houfes,  brother 
Credulous,  or  this  rogue  of  a  Mercury  will  have  our 
very  beds  from  under  us,  before  morning. 

Conj.  It  fliall  be  forth  coming  immediately.  [Fig- 
uring  in  his  booh.']  One  hundred  and  twenty-feven  rods 
northeaflerly  from  this  table,  in  Chinefe  meafure,  lies  a 
Iv^llov/  tree ;  in  that  tree  lies  your  watch. 
Enter  LoKGSTAFF,  cji  Officer,  iiuo  Witnesses,  and 
Thinkv/ell. 

Betty.  Blefs  me  !  half  the  town  v/iil  be  here  :  it  is 
tliiae  for  me  to  go.  \_Exit, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         183 

Blujl.  Mr.  Longiiaff,  be  \o  good  as  not  to  interrupt 
the  Conjurer.  He  has  juil:  told  me  where  my  watch  is, 
and  will  detect  the  thief  with  a  few  figures  more. 

Longjlaff.  My  duty  obliges  me  to  interrupt  him. 
"We  have  your  watch,  and  are  come  to  fecure  the  thief. 
\fro  the  Cvjjurer.']  You  have  run  at  large,  and  defraud- 
ed the  honeft  and  ignorant  long  enough.  By  virtue  of 
this  warrant,  you  are  the  fliate^s  prifoner. 

Conj.  What  tricli  Ih .ill  I  try  now  !  I  am  detected 
at  laft.  lAftiL: 

Cred.  You  muft  be  miiinformed,  Mr.  LongftalF. 
This  man  is  To  flir  from  b^ing  a  thief,  that  lie  is  a 
greater  torment  to  them  than  their  own  conlciences. 

Long.  Hear  the  evidence  of  thefe  gentlemen,  ami 
you  may  alter  your  mind. 

iji  JVitnefs.  I  fuppofe  this  watch  to  be  yours,  Mr. 
Blufter. 

Bltifl.  It  Is  the  very  fame;  the  chain  only  is  changed. 

jjl  Wit.  I  happened  to  overhear  him  talking  with 
one  of  his  gang  laft  evening.  This  watch  with  a  nunir 
ber  of  other  articles,  was  to  be  hidden  in  a  hollow  tree. 
This  impoftor,  to  maintain  the  credit  of  a  Conjurer,  was 
to  inform  the  owners,  on  inquiry,  where  they  were, 
upon  their  paying  liim  for  the  impofition.  I  have  been 
fo  fortunate  as  to  fecure  one  of  the  partners  in  this 
trade.  And  as  I  heard  this  gentleman,  for  whom  you 
have  fo  much  regard,  had  taken  up  lodgings  at  your 
houfe,  I  did  not  choofe  to  interrupt  you  till  there  was 
full  proof  of  his  guilt.  The  flolen  goods,  which  he 
defcribed,  and  we  have  found,  are  fufficient  evidence 
againffc  him. 

Cred.  Villain  f  a  halter  is  too  good  for  your  neck. 
May  I  be  taught  common  fenfe  by  a  monkey,  if  ever  I 
am  duped  again  in  fuch  a  manner. 

2d  Wit.  My  evidence  tends  rather  to  impeach  the 
character  of  my  townfmen  than  this  worthlefs  fellow'g. 
All  I  can  fay,  is,  that  feveral  months  ago,  he  travelled 
this  road  in  charadler  of  a  tinker  •,  and  now  all  our 
young  girls,  old  maids,  and  ignorant  fellows,  are  run- 


1 84         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

nlng  after  this  wife  Conjurer  to  buy  the  Jiiflory  of  their 
liv^s,  whicli,  a  little  while  fince,  they  were  weak 
enough  to  give  him  for  nothing. 
,  Think,  I  hope  the  impoftor  will  be  brought  to  juf- 
lice,  andwe  to  our  fenfcs ;  and  that  after  paying  this 
infatiiateJ  devotion  to  vice  and  ignorance,  virtue  arid 
true  knowledge  may  have  our  more  ferious  veneration. 
Lbfig.  Gentlemen,  aHlft  me  to  conduct  him  to  pri- 
fon.  \Exmnt  onuie's. 


!'  .'iR.u'  ■  iROM  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech  in  the 

i^KiiiSii  Pakliamilnt,  Jan.  20,  1775. 

WHEN  your  lordfhips  look  at  the  papers  tranf- 
mitted  to  us  from  America ;  when  you  con- 
fider  their  decency,  iirmnefs,  and  wifdom,  you  cannot 
but  refpeft  their  caufe,  and  v/ifh  to  make  it  your  own. 
For  myfelf,  I  mufl  declare  and  avow,  that  in  all  my 
reading  and  obfervation,  (and  it  has  been  my  favourite 
iludy :  I  have  read  Thucidydes,  and  have  liudied  and 
admired  the  maiier-ftates  of  the  world  :)  I  fay  I  muft 
declare,  that,  for  folidity  of  reafoning,  forcie  of  fagacity, 
and  vvifdorn  of  conclulion,  under  fuch  a  complication 
of  ditlicult  circumftances,  no  nation,  or  body  of  men 
can  iland  in  preference  to  the  General  Congrefs  at 
Philadelphia.  I  truft  it  is  obvious  to  your  lordfhips, 
that  all  attempts  to  impofe  fervitude  upon  fuch  men,  to 
eilabliih  defpotifm  over  fuch  a  mighty  continental  na- 
tion, mull:  be  vain,  muli  be  fatal. 

We  Ihali  be  forced,  ultimately,  to  retracfl ;  let  us 
retradl  v.'hile  Vv'e  can^  not  when  we  w///?.  I  fay  we 
muft  ncrcfTarily  undo  thefe  violent  oppreflive  a£ls. 
They  MUST  be  repealed.  You  WILL  repeal  them. 
I  pledge  myfelf  for  it,  that  you  will  in  the  end  repeal 
them.  I  ftaks  my  reputation  on  it.  I  will  confent  to 
be  taken  for  an  idiot,  if  they  are  net  finally  repealed. 

Avoidj  then,  this  humiliating,  difgraceful  neceffity. 
With  a  dignity  becoming  your  exalted  lituationa  make 


THE  COLUMBIAN  OR ATOl^.  185 

the  firft  advances  to  concord,  to  peace  and  happinefs : 
for  it  is  your  true  dignity,  to  a6t  with  prudence  and 
juftice.  That  you  fhould  lirft  concede  is  obvious  from 
found  and  rational  policy.  Concellion  comes  with  bet- 
ter grace,  and  more  falutary  efFecls  from  lupsrior  pow- 
er ;  it  reconciles  fuperiority  of  power  with  the  feelings 
of  men  ;  and  eftablifhes  folid  confidence  on  the  foun- 
dations of  afFedlion  and  gratitude. 

Every  motive,  therefore,  of  juftice  and  of  policy,  of 
dignity  and  of  prudence,  urges  you  to  allay  the  fer- 
ment in  America,  by  a  removal  of  your  troops  from 
Bofton ;  by  a  repeal  of  your  acfts  of  Parliament ;  and 
by  demonftration  of  amicable  difpofitions  towards  your 
colonies.  On  the  other  hand,  every  danger  and  every 
hazard  impend,  to  deter  you  from  perfeverance  in  your 
prefent  ruinous  meafures.  Foreign  war  hanging  over 
your  heads  by  a  flight  and  brittle  thread  :  France  and 
Spain  watching  your  condudt,  and  waiting  for  the  ma- 
turity of  your  errors ;  with  a  vigilant  eye  to  America, 
and  the  temper  of  your  colonies,  more  than  to  theii"* 
own  concerns,  be  they  what  they  may. 

To  conclude,  my  lords  ;  if  the  minifters  thus  perfe- 
vere  in  mifadvifitlg  and  mifleading  the  King,  I  will  not 
fay,  that  they  can  alienate  the  ail^^cfcions  of  his  fubjects 
from  his  crown  ;  but  I  will  aflirm,  that  they  will  make 
the  crown  not  worth  his  wearing  :  I  will  not  fay 'that 
the  King  is  betrayed ;  but  I  will  pronounce,  that  the 
kingdom  is  undone. 


Speech  of  Galgachus  to  tele  Caledo* 
KiAN  Army. 

Countrymen,  and  Fellow-Soldiers, 

WHEN  I  coniider  the  caufe  for  which  we  have 
drawn  our  fwords,  and  the  neceffity  of  ftrikin^ 
an  efFedlual  blow,  before  we  fheathe  them  again,  1  fecil 
joyful  hopes  arifjng  in  my  mind,  that  this  day  an  open- 
ing will  be  made  for  the  reftoration  of  Britilh  liberty, 


1 86         THE  COLUMBIAN  Ok ATOR. 

and  for  fiiaking  ofFthe  Infamous  yoke  of  Roman flaverf. 
Cabdonia  is  yet  free.  The  all-grafping  power  of  Rome 
lias  not  yet  been  able  to  leize  our  liberty.  But  it  is  to 
be  preferved  only  by  valour. 

You  are  not  to  expect  to  efcape  the  ravage  of  the 
general  plnnderers  of  mankind,  by  any  fentiment  of 
julilce  in  them.  When  the  countries  which  are  more 
uccellible  have  been  fubdued,  they  will  then  force  their 
way  into  thofe  which  are  harder  to  be  overcome. 
And  if  they  fliould  conquer  the  dry  land,  over  the 
whole  world,  they  will  then  think  of  carrying  their 
arms  beyond  the  ocean,  to  fee  whether  there  be  not 
cci  tain  unknown  regions,  which  they  may  attack,  and 
reduce  under  fubjedtion  to  the  Roman  Empire. 

For  we  fee  that  if  a  country  is  thought  to  be  powef- 
ful  in  arms,  the  Romans  attack  it  becaufe  the  conqueft 
will  be  glorious  ;  if  inconfiderable  in  the  military  art, 
becaufe  the  victory  will  be  eafy  ;  if  rich,  they  are 
drawn  thither  by  the  hope  of  plunder  j  if  poor,  by 
the  delire  of  fame. 

The  eail,  and  the  weft,  the  fouth,  and  the  north,  the 
face  of  the  whole  earth  is  the  fcene  of  their  miiitary 
achievem.ents.  The  world  is  too  little  for  their  ambi- 
tion, and  their  avarice.  Their  fupreme  joy  feems  to  be 
ravaging,  fighting,  and  fliedding  of  blood  ;  and  when 
they  have  unpeopled  a  region,  fo  that  there  are  none 
left  alive  to  bear  arms,  they  fay  they  have  given  peace 
to  that  country. 

Our  diftance  from  the  feat  of  government,  and  our 
natural  defence  by  the  furrounding  ocean,  render  us 
obnoxious  to  their  fufpicions :  for  they  know  that 
J>ritons  are  born  with  an  inftin6live  love  of  liberty : 
-and  they  conclude  that  we  muft  naturally  be  led  to 
think  of  taking  the  advantage  of  our  detached  fituation, 
to  difengage  ourfelves,  one  time  or  another,  from  their 
oppreffion. 

Thus,  my  countrymen  and  fellow-foldiers,  fufpe^led 
and  hated  as  we  ever  muft  be  by  the  Romans,  there  is 
no  profpe^  of  our  enjoying  even  a  tolerable  0^te  of 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 87 

bondage  under  them.  Let  us,  then,  in  the  name  of 
all  that  Is  facred,  and  in  defence  of  all  that  is  dear  to 
us,  refolve  to  exert  ourfelves,  if  not  for  glory,  at  leaft 
for  iafety ;  if  not  in  vindication  of  Britiili  honor,  at 
leaft  in  defence  of  our  lives. 

But,  after  all,  who  are  thefe  mighty  Romans  ?  Are 
they  gods  5  or  mortal  men,  like  ourfelves  ?  Do  we 
not  fee  that  they  fall  into  the  fame  errors  and  weak- 
nefles,  as  others  ?  Does  not  peace  eflfeminate  them  ? 
Does  not  abundance  debauch  them  ?  Does  not  wan* 
tonnefs  enervate  them  ?  Do  they  not  even  go  to  ex« 
cefs  in  the  moft  unmanly  vices  ?  And  can  you  imagine 
that  they  who  are  remarkable  for  their  vices  are  like- 
wife  remarkable  for  their  valour  ?  What  then  do  we 
dread  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth,  my  fellow-foldlers  ? 
It  is  by  means  of  our  inteftine  divifions,  that  the  Ro- 
mans have  gained  fuch  great  advantage  over  us.  They 
turn  the  mifcondudl  of  their  enemies  to  their  own 
praife.  They  boaft  of  what  they  have  done,  and  fay 
nothing  of  what  we  might  have  done,  had  we  been  fo 
wife,  as  to  unite  againft  them. 

What  is  this  formidable  Roman  army  ?  Is  it  not 
compofed  of  a  mixture  of  people  from  different  coun- 
tries ;  fome  more,  fome  lefs  capable  of  bearing  fatigue 
and  hardfliip  ?  They  keep  together  while  they  are 
fiicce''*«ful.  Attack  them  with  vigour  :  diftrefs  them  : 
you  will  fee  them  more  difunited  than  we  are  now. 
Can  any  one  imagine,  that  Gauls,  Germans,  and  with 
fhame  I  muft  add,  Britons,  who  bafely  lend  their  limbs 
and  lives,  to  build  up  a  foreign  tyranny ;  can  one  im- 
agine that  thefe  will  be  longer  enemies  than  flaves  ? 
or  that  fuch  an  army  is  held  together  by  fentiments 
of  fidelity  or  afFe<n:ion  ?  No  :  the  only  bond  of  union 
among  them  is  fear.  And  whenever  terror  ceafes  to 
work  upon  the  minds  of  that  mixed  multitude,  they 
who  now  fear,  will  then  hate  their  tyrannical  mafters. 

On  our  fide  there  is  every  pofllble  incitement  to  valour. 
The  Roman  courage  is  not,  as  ours,  inflamed  by  the 
thoughts  of  wives  and  children  in  danger  of  falling  in- 


1 88         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

to  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  Romans  have  not 
parents,  as  we  have,  to  reproacli  them  if  they  flioiild 
defert  their  infirm  old  age.  They  have  no  country 
here  to  fight  for.  They  are  a  motley  colled\ion  of 
foreigners,  in  a  land  wholly  unknown  to  them ;  cut 
ofi:'  from  their  native  country ;  hemmed  in  by  the  fur- 
rounding  ocean  ;  and  given,  I  hope,  a  prey  into  our 
hands,  without  any  poflibility  of  efcape.  Let  not  the 
found  of  the  Roman  name  afiright  your  ears,  nor  let 
the  glare  of  gold  or  filver,  upon  their  armour,  dazzle 
your  eyes.  It  is  not  by  gold  or  filver,  that  men  are 
either  wounded  or  defended  ;  though  they  are  render- 
ed a  richer  prey  to  the  conquerors.  Let  us  boldly 
attack  this  difunited  rabble.  We  fhall  find  among 
themfelves  a  reinforcement  to  our  army. 

And  what  will  there  be  then  to  fear  ?  A  few  half 
garrifoned  forts  ;  a  few  municipal  towns,  inhabited  by 
w^orn-out  old  men  ;  difcord  univerfally  prevailing,  oc- 
cafioned  by  tyranny  in  thofe  who  command,  and  ob- 
frinacy  in  thofe  who  fhould  obey.  On  our  fide,  an 
army  united  in  the  caufe  of  their  country,  their  wives, 
their  children,  their  aged  parents,  their  lives.  At  the 
head  of  this  army,  I  hope  I  do  not  offend  againft:  modef- 
ty  in  faying,  there  is  a  General  ready  to  exert  all  hi^ 
abilities,  fuch  as  they  are,  and  to  hazard  his  life  in 
leading  you  to  vitftory,  and  to  freedom. 

I  conclude,  my  countrymen  and  fellow-foidiers, 
with  putting  you  in  mind,  that  on  your  behaviour  this 
day,  depends  your  future  enjoyment  of  peace  and  lib- 
erty, or  your  fubje(Slion  to  a  tyrannical  enemy,  with 
all  its  grievous  confequences.  When,  therefore,  you 
come  to  engage,  think  of  your  anceftors,  and  think  of 
your  pofterity. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  r89 


Modern  Education. 

Dialogue  between  a  Preceptor  of  an  Academy^ 
AND  Parent  of  an  offered  Pupil. 

Preceptor.  T  AM  heartily  fick  of  this  modern  niode 
\^Solus.~\  J^  of  education.  Nothing  but  trafh  will 
fult  the  tafte  of  people  at  this  day.  I  am  perplexed  be- 
yond all  endurance  with  thefe  frequent  felicitations  of 
parents,  to  give  their  children  graceful  airs,  polite  ac- 
complidiments,  and  a  fmattering  of  what  they  call  the 
fine  arts  5  while  nothh:!g  is  faid  about  teaching  them 
the  fubftantial  brandies  of  literature.  If  they  can  but 
dance  a  little,  fiddle  a  little,  flute  a  little,  and  make  a 
handfome  bow  and  courtefy,  that  is  fufficient  to  make 
them  famous,  in  ih\s  enlightened  2igc,  Three-fourths  of 
the  teachers  of  thofe  arts,  which  once  were  efteemed 
moft  valuable,  will  foon  be  out  of  employment,  at  this 
rate.  For  my  part,  I  am  convinced,  that,  if  I  had  been 
a  dancing  mafter,  mufic  mafter,  ftage  player,  or  moun- 
tebank, I  fhould  have  been  much  more  refpe£led,  and 
much  better  fupported,  than  I  am  at  prefent. 
Enter  Parent. 

Parent.  Your  humble  fervant,  Sir ;  are  you  the 
principal  of  this  Academy  ? 

Precep,     I  am,  at  your  fervice,  Sir. 

Par.  I  have  heard  much  of  the  fame  of  your  in- 
ftitution,  and  am  defirous  of  putting  a  fon,  of  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  under  your  tuition.  I  fuppofe  you 
have  mafters  who  teach  the  various  branches  of  the 
polite  arts. 

Precep.  We  are  not  inattentive  to  thofe  arts,  Sir  ; 
but  the  fame  of  our  academy  does  not  reft  upon  them. 
Ufefiil  learning  is  our  grand  objedt.  What  fludies  do 
you  wifti  to  put  your  fon  upon. 

Par.  I  wifh  him  to  be  perfevfted  in  mufic,  dancing, 
drawing,  &c.  and  as  he  poiTefles  a  promiling  genius 
for  poetry,  I  would  by  all  means  have  that  cultivated. 


ipo  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Precep.  Tliefe  are  not  all  the  branches,  I  trufl:,  in 
which  he  is  to  be  inftrudled.  You  mention  nothing  of 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  language,  &c.  Are  thefe 
to  be  wholly  neglected. 

Par.  "Why,  as  to  thefe  evtry-day  branches,  I  cannot 
lay  I  feel  very  anxious  about  them.  The  boy  reads 
well  now ;  writes  a  decent  hand ;  is  acquainted  with 
the  ground  rules  of  arithmetic,  and  pronounces  the 
Englilli  language  genteelly.  He  has  been  a  long  time 
under  the  care  cf  Mr.  Honeftus,  our  town  fchoolmaf- 
ter,  who  has  taught  him  all  thefe  things  fufficiently. 
So  that  I  think  any  more  time  devoted  to  them  would 
be  wafted. 

Precep.  If  he  is  fuch  an  adept  that  there  is  no  room 
for  his  progrefling  in  thofe  arts  ;  yet  I  think,  at  leaft, 
there  is  need  of  practice,  left,  at  his  age,  he  fhould  for- 
get what  he  has  learned. 

Par.  That  I  fhali  leave  to  your  difcretion.  But 
there  is  one  branch,  of  great  importance,  which  I  have 
not  yet  mentioned,  and  to  which  I  would  have  partic- 
ular attention  paid  ;  I  mean  the  art  of  fpeaking.  You 
will  find  him  not  deficient  in  that  refpe(St ;  though  per- 
haps it  requires  as  much  practice  to  make  one  perfect  in 
that,  as  in  any  art  whatever.  He  has  already  learned 
by  heart  a  great  number  of  pieces,  and  has  a£led  a  part 
in  feveral  comedies  and  tragedies  with  much  applaufe. 
It  has  been  the  cuftom  of  our  mafter  to  have  an  exhibi- 
tion at  leaft  once  a  quarter  ;  and  my  fon  has  always 
been  confidered  as  one  of  his  beft  performers.  He 
lately  took  the  part  of  Jemmy  Jumps  in  the  farce  call- 
ed The  Farmer,  and  a6i:ed  it  to  univerfal  acceptation. 

Precep.  I  muft  confefs,  Sir,  that  your  account  of 
your  fon  does  not  appear  to  me  to .  be  very  flattering. 

Par.  Why  fo,  pray  ?  have  you  not  an  ear  for  elo- 
quence .'' 

Precep.  Indeed  I  have.  Sir.  No  man  is  more  charm- 
ed than  I  am  with  its  enrapturing  founds.  No  mulic 
refts  fweeter  on  my  ear  than  the  melodious  notes,  pro- 
ceeding from  the  mouth  of  a  judicious,  well-inftruded, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  191 

and  powerful  orator.  But  I  muft  tell  you  plainly, 
that  I  am  by  no  means  pleafed  to  fee  parents  take  ib 
much  pains  to  transform  their  children  into  monkies 
inftead  of  men.  What  figns  of  oratory  do  you  imag- 
ine you  can  difcern  in  a  boy,  rigged  out  in  a  fantafli- 
cal  drefs,  fidpping  about  the  flage  like  a  baboon,  in  the 
character  of  Jemmy  Jumps,  Betty' Jumps,  or  any  other 
jumper  ? 

Par.  Do  you  not  approve  of  exhibitions  then  ? 
Prccep.  Not  much,  I  confefs,  in  the  way  they  are 
generally  condu^led.  A  mafter,  who  has  four  in  a 
year,  muft  necefTarily  rob  his  pupils  of  one  quarter  of 
that  time,  which,  in  my  opinion,  might  be  much  bet- 
ter employed  in  attending  to  what  would  be  ufeful  for 
them  in  life. 

Par,  What  can  be  more  ufeful  for  a  child,  under 
fuch  a  government  as  ours,  than  to  be  able  to  fpeak 
before  an  audiance  with  a  graceful  eafe,  and  a  manful 
dignity  ?  My  fon,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be  a  mem- 
ber of  Congrefs  before  he  dies. 

Precep.  For  that  very  reafon  I  would  educate  him 
differently.  I  would  lay  the  foundation  of  his  future 
fame  on  the  firm  bafis  of  the  folid  fciences ;  that  he 
might  be  able  in  time  to  do  fomething  more  than  a 
mere  parrot,  or  an  ape,  who  are  capable  only  of  fpeak- 
ing  the  words,  and  mimicking  the  actions  of  others. 
He  fliould  firft  be  taught  to  read.  He  fhould  likewife 
be  taught  to  compofe  for  himfelf  *,  and  I  would  not  be 
wanting  in  my  endeavors  to  make  him  a  fpeaker. 

Par,  Surely,  Mr.  Preceptor,  you  mufl  be  very 
wrong  in  your  notions.  I  have  ever  purfued  a  differ- 
ent plail  with  my  children  ;  and  there  are  none  in  the 
country,  though  I  fay  it  myfelf,  who  are  more  univer- 
fally  carefled.  I  have  a  daughter  that  has  {^^n  but 
fourteen  years,  who  is  capable  of  gracing  the  poHteft 
circles.  It  is  allowed  that  fhe  can  enter,  and  leave  a 
room,  witli  as  much  eafe  and  dignity  as  any  lady  of 
-quality  whatever.  And  this  is  evidently  owing  alto- 
gether to  her  polite  education.     I  boarded  her  a  year 


192         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

in  the  capital,  where  (lie  enjoyed  every  poflible  advan-' 
tage.  She  attended  the  moft  accomplifhed  mafters  in 
the  ornamental  branches  of  fcience ;  vifited  the  gen- 
teeleft  families,  and  frequented  all  the  fcenes  of  amufe- 
ment.  It  is  true,  her  letters  are  not  always  written 
quite  fo  accurately  as  could  be  wiflied  -,  yet  fhe  dances 
w^ll,  plays  well  on  the  piano-forte,  and  Cngs  like  a 
nightingale. 

Precep.  Does  flie  know  the  art  of  making  a  good 
pudding  ?  Can  fhe  darn  a  flocking  well  ?  or  is  flie 
capable  of  patching  the  elbows  of  her  hufband's  coat, 
fhould  flie  ever  be  fo  lucky  as  to  get  one  ?  If  fhe  is  to 
remain  ignorant  of  all  fuch  domefiic  employments,  as 
much  as  I  value  her  other  accomplilhrnents,  and  as 
much  as  I  mJght  be  in  want  of  a  wife,  I  would  not 
marry  her  with  twice  her  weight  in  gold. 

Par.  Her  accompliflmients  will  command  her  ahuf- 
band  as  foon  as  fhe  wilhes.  But  fo  long  as  a  fingle  cent 
of  my  property  remains,  her  delicate  hands  fliall  never 
be  fo  unworthily  employed. 

PrecYp.  But  fuppole  a  reverfe  of  fortune  fhould 
overtake  you,  what  is  to  become  of  the  child  j  as  you 
fay  flie  underAands  nothing  of  domeftic  affairs  }  Will 
it  be  more  honorable,  do  you  imagine,  for  her  to  be 
maintained  by  the  charity  of  the  people^  than  by  her 
own  induftry  ? 

Par,  There  are  many  ways  for  her  to  be  fupported. 
I  would  not  have  you  think  flie  is  wholly  ignorant  of 
the  ufe  of  the  needle,  though  flie  never  employed  it  in 
fo  difgraceful  a  manner  as  that  of  darning  ftockings  ! 
or  botching  tattered  garments  !  But  v/e  will  wave  that 
fubje^l,  and  attend  to  the  other.  Will  you  receive 
the  boy  for  the  purpofes  before  mentioned  1 

Precep.  Why,  indeed,  Sir,  I  cannot.  Though  I 
am  far  from  condemning  altogether  your  favourite 
branches,  yet  I  coniider  them  all  as  fubordinate,  and 
feme  of  them,  at  leafl:,  totally  ufelefs.  We  devote  but 
a  fmall  portion  of  our  time  to  the  attainment  of  fuch 
fuperficial  accomplifliments.    I  would  therefore  recomp^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  193 

mend  it  to  you,  to  commit  him  to  the  care  of  thofe 
perfons,  who  have  been  fo  fucceisful  in  the  inftrudlion 
of  his  liiler. 

Par.  I  confefs  I  am  fo  far  convinced  of  the  propri- 
ety of  your  method,  that,  if  you  will  admit  him  into 
your  Academy,  I  will  renounce  all  right  of  di<fl:ating 
to  you  his  lefTons  of  inftruclion,  except  in  one  fingle 
inftance  ;  and  in  that  I  am  perfuaded  we  fhall  not  difa- 
gree  ;  I  mean  the  art  of  fpeaking. 

Precep.  I  fhall  agree  to  that  only  under  certain 
limitations.  That  is  an  art  which  undoubtedly  dem.ands 
our  foi'.citous  attention  •,  but  it  ought  never  to  be  pur- 
fued  to  the  injury  of  other  fludies.  I  am  fenfible  that 
it  is  no  lefs  ufeful  to  a  pupil  than  entertaining  to.  an 
audience,  to  exercife  him  cccafionaily  on  the  ftage  in 
declaiming  judicious  and  well-written  compofitions,  and 
pronouncing  fuch  fele(fted  dialogues,  as  will  tend  to 
give  gracefulnefs  to  his  attitude,  and  familrarity  to  his 
tones  and  geftures.  But,  admitting  that  time  could  be 
fpared  from  more  important  purfuits,  I  fee  but  little 
gcod  refulting  from  the  exhibition  of  whole  comedies 
and  tragedies  in  our  academies  and  fchools  ;  wlile 
much  evil  is  to  be  feared,  both  from  the  immorality  of 
the  plays,  and  the  diffipation  it  introduces  into  fociety. 
Befides,  all  boys  are  not  calculated  for  orators ;  and 
though  Demofthenes  furmounted  aimofi:  infuperable 
difficulties  in  the  acquirement  of  his  art,  it  is  folly  to 
fuppofe  that  his  example  is  capable  of  univerfai  imita- 
tion. I  cannot  believe  it  a  very  pleafing  entertainment 
to  a  difcerning  audience,  to  fee  a  boy  without  talents, 
mounted  upon  the  rolh'um,  fpout'ing  forth  fentences 
which  he  does  not  underftand,  and  which,  perhaps, 
are  chofen  '^ith  as  little  judgment  as  they  are  deliver- 
ed with  propriety.  But  what  ca^i  be  more  difgufting 
than  to  fee  innocent,  and  timid  females,  whofe  excel- 
lence, in  part,  conlifts  in  their  modefty,  and  filence, 
before  fuperiours,  encouraged  to  reverfe  the  order  of 
nature,  by  playing  the  orator  on  a  public  (lage  !  And 
what  often  enhances  our  difguft^  and  fickens  all  our 
R 


194         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

feelings,  is,  that  their  lips  are  taught  to  pronounce  fen- 
timents,  extracted  from  the  very  dregs  of  the  Euro- 
pean drama. 

Par,  Then  it  fecms  you  do  not  approve  of  females 
fpeaking  at  all  ? 

Precep.  Not  on  a  public  ftage,  unlefs  I  wifhed  to 
fee  them  divefted  of  half  their  charms.  Such  mafcu- 
line  employments  as  ill  become  them,  as  the  labours  of 
the  field,  or  the  habits  of  the  ftronger  fex.  I  would 
have  them  taught  to  resd  and  pronounce  well  at  fchool ; 
but  nature  never  defigned  them  for  public  orators  ; 
much  lefs,  that  they  fhould  be  degraded  to  the  vile  pur- 
pofe  of  entertaining  the  votaries  of  theatrical  amufe- 
ments. 

Par.  Why,  you  differ  v;idely  from  many,  whofe 
pride  it  is  to  be  confidered  as  the  ftandards  of  modern 
tail:e.  It  does  not  now  offend  againft  the  rules  of  deli- 
cacy, for  the  different  fexes  to  make  exchange  of  gar- 
ments now  and  then,  provided  the  grand  objeiSt  of 
amufement  be  promoted  by  it.  I  was  in  Boflon  laft 
week,,  and  there  I  faw  a  beautiful  ycung  lady,  rigged 
out  from  top  to  toe  in  men's  apparel,  aflride  a  gay 
Iiorfe,  parading  through  the  fireets,  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  that  polite  metrop- 
olis. And  none  appeared  to  be  offended,  except  a  few 
who  had  not  attained  a  relifli  for  refined  pleafures. 

Precep,  Yes,  and  I  am  told,  that,  at  their  theatres,  it 
is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  woman  to  make  her  appear- 
ance in  that  apparel,  with  a  fword  by  her  fjde,  llrut- 
ting  acrofs  the  flage,  and  fwearing  oaths  big  enough  to 
choke  an  Algerine  pirate  ;  and  yet  it  is  fo  agreeable  to 
the  modern  ton,  that  even  ladies  of  diflinguifhed  refine- 
ment are  ajljamed  to  hlufi)  at  her  I 

Par.  You  ha\e  made  me  fo  far  a  convert  to  your 
fentiments  on  this  fubjtct,  and  given  me  fuch  proofs  of 
)<var  fnperiour  judgment  in  the  education  of  youth,  that 
1  am  determined  to  commit  my  fon  without  any  referve, 
to  your  care  and  inftru6lion.  Till  you  hear  from  me 
again,  I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  fervant, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  195 

The  Existence  of  God,  demonstrated, 
FROM  THE  Works  of  Creation  -,  being  a  Ser- 
mon   PREACHED    AT    PROVIDENCE,     BY     JONATHAN 

Maxcy,  a.  m.  President  of  Rhode-Island  Coe- 
LEGE,  1795;  from  Romans  i.  20. 

[N.  B.  IVhctt  found  expedient,  the  fdloiv'mg  Sermon  vmy  conveniently  ie 
dro'uled  Inti  three  or  f<jur  parts  ^f nit  able  far  declamations.  The  author  of  this 
luoik  did  not  intend  at  frjl  to  infcrt  the  lul.^e  ;  but  in  attempting  to  Tnaic  j. 
feleSiion^  he  could  find  no  part  ivhich  he  xvas  •milling  to  leave.] 

NOTHING  will  more  effe<Stually  guard  us  againit 
vice,  than  a  firm  belief  in  the  exigence  of  God. 
For  furely  if  we  realize  that  there  is  fuch  a  Being,  we 
fliall  naturally  infer  from  his  perfections,  from  the  na- 
ture of  his  moral  government,  and  from  our  iituation 
as  rational  creatures,  that  w^e  are  amenable  at  his  awfnl 
tribunal.  Superiour  power,  wifdom,  and  goodnefs,  al- 
ways lay  us  under  reftraint,  -and  command  our  venera- . 
tion.  Thefe,  even  in  a  mortal,  overawe  us.  They  re- 
ftrain  not  only  the  actions,  but  the  words  and  thoughts 
of  the  moft  vicious  and  abandoned.  Our  happincfr. 
depends  on  our  virtue.  Our  virtue  depends  on  the 
conformity  of  our  hearts  and  conduiSt  to  the  laws  pr^- 
fcribed  us  by  our  beneficent  Creator. 

Of  what  vaft  importance  then  is  it  to  our  prefent  as 
well  as  future  felicity,  to  poflefs  in  our  hearts  a  feeling 
fenfe,  and  in  our  underftandings  a  clear  conviCHon  of 
the  exiftence  of  that  Being  whofe  power  and  goodnefs 
are  unbounded,  whofe  prefence  fills  immenfity,  and 
whofe  wifdom,  like  a  torrent  of  lightning,  emanates 
through  all  the  dark  recefies  of  eternal  duration  !  How 
great  mull:  be  the  effecSl  of  a  {cn^e.  of  the  prefence  of 
the  great  Creator  and  Governor  of  all  things,  to  whom 
belong  the  attributes,  eternity,  independency,  perfe<Sl[ 
holinefs,  inflexible  juftice,  and  inviolable  veracity ; 
complete  happinefs  and  glorious  majeily  j  fupreme 
right  and  unbounded  dominion ! 


196         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

A  fenfe  of  accountability  to  God  will  retard  the 
eager  purfuit  of  vice;  it  will  humble  the  heart  of  the 
proud,  it  will  bridle  the  tongue  of  the  profane,  and 
fnatch  the  knife  from  the  hand  of  the  affaffin.  A  belief 
of  the  exiftence  of  God  is  the  true  original  fourcs  of  all 
virtue,  and  the  only  foundation  of  all  religion,  natural 
or  revealed.  Set  ailde  this  great  luminous  truiii,  tnife 
the  ccnvi«5ilon  of  it  from  the  heart,  you  then  place  vir- 
tue and  vice  on  the  fame  level ;  you  drive  aiflicted  in- 
nocence into  defpair  ;  you  add  new  effrontery  to  the 
rnarred  vifage  of  guilt  •,  you  plant  thorns  in  the  path, 
and  ilied  aa  impenetrable  gloom  over  the  profpects  of 
the  righteous. 

Sin  has  alienated  the  affe£l:ions,  and  diverted  the  at- 
tention of  men  from  the  great  Jehovah.  "Darknefs 
has  covered  the  earth,  and  grofs  darknefs  the  people." 
Men  have  worfhipped  the  works  of  their  own  hands, 
and  neglected  the  true  God,  though  his  exiftence  and 
perfections  were  ftamped  in  glaring  characters  on  all 
creation.  From  the  ren;ularity,  order,  beauty,  and  con- 
fervation  of  this  great  fyftem  of  things,  of  v/hich  man 
makes  a  part ;  from  the  uniform  tendency  of  all  its  di» 
vifions  to  their  proper  ends;  the  exigence  of  God  fhines 
as  clearly  as  the  fun  in  the  heavens.  "  From  the 
things  that  are  made,"  fays  the  text,  "  are  feen  his 
eternal  power  and  Godhead." 

I.  Man  himfelf  is  a  proof  of  God's  exigence.  Let 
us  place  him  before  us  in  his  full  ilature.  We  are  at 
once  imprelT^d  witii  the  beautiful  organization  of  his 
body,  with  the  orderly  and  harmonious  arrangement  of 
his  members.  Such  is  the  difpoiition  of  tliefe,  that  their 
motion  is  the  mo  ft  eafy,  graceful,  and  ufeful  that  can 
be  conceived.  We  are  ailonillied  to  fee  the  fame  iim- 
ple  matter  divernfied  into  fo  many  different  fubftancesj 
of  different  qualities,  fize,  and  figure.  If  we  purfue 
our  refearches  through  the  internal  economy,  we  fliall 
find,  that  all  the  different  oppofite  parts  correfpond  to 
each  other  with  the  utmoft  f:X3cinefs  and  order  ;  that 
r,u  nn^v/er  the  moft  beneaccnt  piirpofes, 


THE  COLmmiA^  ORATOR.         197 

This  wonderful  machine,  the  human  body,  is  ani- 
mated, cherifhed,  and  preferved,  by  a  fpirit  within, 
which  pervades  every  particle,  feels  in  every  organ, 
warns  us  of  injury,  and  adminifters  to  our  pleafures. 
Ere£l  in  ftature,  man  ditTers  from  ail  other  animals. 
Though  his  foot  is  confined  to  the  earth,  yet  his  eye 
meafures  the  whole  circuit  of  heaven,  and  in  an  inftant 
takes  in  thoufands  of  worlds.  His  countenance  is  turn- 
ed upward,  to  teach  us  that  he  is  not,  like  other  animals, 
limited  to  the  earth,  but  looks  forward  to  brighter 
fcenes  of  exiftence  in  the  fkies. 

Whence  came  this  erect,  orderly,  beautiful  conflitu- 
tion  of  the  human  body  ?  Did  it  fpring  up  from  the 
earth,  felf-moved  ?  Surely  not.  Earth  itfelf  is  inac- 
tive matter.  That  which  has  no  motion  can  never 
produce  any.  Man  furely  could  not,  as  has  been 
vainly  and  idly  fuppofed,  have  been  formed  by  the  for- 
tuitous concurrence  of  atoms.  We  behold  the  moft 
cxadl  order  in  the  conftitution  of  the  human  body. 
Order  always  involves  defign.  Delign  alwp.ys  involves 
intelligence.  That  intelligence,  which  directed  the 
orderly  formation  of  the  human  body,  muft  have  refid- 
ed  in  a  Being  whofe  power  was  adequate  to  the  pro- 
dudlion  of  fuch  an  efFedt. 

Creation  furely  Is  the  prerogative  of  a  felf-exiftent, 
uncauicd  Being.  Finite  creatures  may  arrange  and 
difpofe,  but  tliey  cannot  create  ;  they  cannot  give  life. 
It  is  a  univerfal  law  through  all  nature,  that  like  pro- 
duces like.  The  fame  laws  mod:  probably  obtain  through 
the  whole  fyftem  in  which  we  are  conne<!iled.  ^  We 
have  therefore  no  reafon  to  fuppofe  that  angels  created 
man.  Neither  can  we,  without  the  greateft  abfurdity, 
admit,  that  he  was  formed  by  himfelf,  or  by  mere  ac- 
cident. If  in  the  latter  way,  why  do  we  never  fee 
men  formed  fo  in  the  prefent  day  ?  Why  do  we  nevet: 
fee  the  clods  of  earth  brightening  into  human  flefh> 
and  the  dull  under  our  feet  crawling  into  animatei 
forms,  ^nd^  ftarting  up  into  life  gnd  intelligence.  ? 
R  2; 


198    THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 

If  we  even  sdmit  that  either  of  the  forementloned 
caufe.s  might  have  produced  man,  yet  neither  of  them 
could  have  preferved  him  in  exiftence  one  moment. 
There  muft  therefore  be  a  God  uncaufed,  independent, 
and  complete.  The  nobler  part  of  man  clearly  evinces 
this  great  truth.  When  we  conlider  the  boundlcfs  de- 
iires  and  the  inconceivable  activity  of  the  foul  of  man, 
v,'e  can  refer  his  origin  to  nothing  but  God.  How  af- 
tonifliing  are  the  reafoning  faculties  of  man  !  How  fur- 
prifing  the  pou'er  of  comparing,  arranging,  and  con- 
nedling  his  ideas  !  How  wonderful  is  the  power  of  im- 
agination !  On  its  wings,  in  a  moment,  we  can  tranf- 
port  ourfelves  to  the  moft  diftant  part  of  the  univerfe. 
We  can  fly  back,  and  live  the  lives  of  all  antiquity,  or 
furmount  the  limits  of  time,  and  fail  along  the  vafb 
range  of  eternity.  Whence  thefe  aflonifhing  po\A  ers, 
if  not  from  a  God  of  infinite  wifdom,  goodnefs,  and 
power  ? 

2.  "  The  invifible  things  of  him  from  the  creation 
of  the  world,"  fays  the  text,  "  are  clearly  feen." 
Let  us  for  a  moment  behold  our  earth.  With  what  a 
delightful  fcene  are  we  here  prefented  !  the  diverfifi- 
cation  of  its  furface  into  land  and  water,  iflands  and 
lakes,  fprings  and  rivers,  hills  and  vallies,  mountains 
and  plains,  renders  it  to  man  doubly  enchanting.  We 
are  entertained  with  an  agreeable  variety,  without  be- 
ing difgufted  by  a  tedious  uniformity.  Every  thing 
appears  admirably  formed  for  our  profit  and  delight. 
There  the  vallies  are  clothed  in  fmiling  green,  and  the 
plains  are  bending  with  corn.  Here  is  the  gentle  hill 
to  delight  the  eye,  and  beyond,  flow  rifing  from  the 
earth,  fvvells  the  huge  mountain,  and,  with  all  its  load 
of  waters,  rocks,  and  woods,  heaves  itfelf  up  into  the 
ikies.  Why  this  pleafing,  vafi  deformity  of  nature  ? 
Undoubtedly  for  the  benefit  of  man.  From  the  moun- 
tains defcend  flreams  to  fertilize  the  plains  below,  and 
cover  them  with  wealth  and  beauty. 

The  earth  not  only  produces  every  thing  necefTary 
to  fupport  our  bodies,  but  to  remedy  our  difeafes,  and 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  199 

gratify  our  fenfes.  Who  covered  the  earth  with  fuch 
a  pleafing  variety  of  fruits  and  flowers  ?  Who  gave 
them  their  delightful  fragrance,  and  painted  them  with 
fuch  exquifite  colours  ?  Who  caufes  the  fame  water  to 
whiten  in  the  lily,  that  blufhes  in  the  rofe  ?  Do  not 
thefe  things  indicate  a  Caufe  infinitely  fuoeriour  to  any 
finite  being  ?  Do  they  not  directly  lead  us  to  believe 
the  exiftence  of  God,  to  admire  his  goodnefs,  to  revere 
his  power,  to  adore  his  vvifdom,  in  fo  happily  accom- 
modating our  external  circumftances  to  our  iituation 
and  internal  conftitution  ? 

3.  But  how  are  we  aftoniflied  to  behold  the  vafl 
ocean,  rolling  its  immenfe  burden  of  waters  !  Who 
gave  it  fuch  a  configuration  of  particles  as  to  render  it 
moveable  by  the  leaft  preiTure,  and  at  the  fame  time  Co 
firong  as  to  fupport  the  heavieft  weights  ?  Who  fpread 
out  this  vaft  high-way  of  all  the  nations  under  heav- 
en ?  Who  gave  it  its  regular  motion  ?  Wlio  con- 
fined it  within  its  bounds  ?  A  little  more  motion 
would  diforder  the  whole  world  '  A  fmall  incitement 
on  the  tide  would  drown  whole  kingdoms.  Who  re- 
flrains  the  proud  waves,  when  the  tempeft  lifts  them 
to  the  clouds  ?  Who  meafured  the  great  waters,  and 
fubjedled  them  to  invariable  laws  ?  That  great  Being, 
«  who  placed  the  fand  for  the  bound  thereof,  by  a  per- 
petual decree  that  it  cannot  pafs ;  and  though  the 
waves  thereof  tofs  themfelves,  yet  can  they  not  prevail; 
though  they  roar,  yet  can  they  not  pafs  over."  With, 
reafon  may  we  believe,  that  from  the  things  that  are 
made  are  clearly  feen  eternal  power  and  vvifdom. 

4.  Faffing  by  the  numerous  productions  and  appen- 
dages of  the  earth,  let  us  rife  from  it,  and  confider  the 
body  of  air  with  which  we  are  furrounded.  What  a 
convincing  proof  do  we  here  find  of  the  exiftence  of 
God  !  Such  Is  the  fubtility  and  tranfparency  of  the 
air,  that  it  receives  the  rays  of  the  fun  and  ftars,  con- 
veying them  with  inconceivable  velocity  to  objects  on 
the  earth,  rendering  them  vifible,  and  decorating  the 


200         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

whole  furface  of  the  globe  with  an  agreeable  Inter- 
mixture of  light,  fliade,  and  colours.  But  ftlll  this  air 
hasafufficientconfiftencyandftrengtli  to  fupport  clouds, 
and  all  the  winged  inhabitants.  Had  it  been  lefs  fub- 
tile,  it  would  have  intercepted  the  light.  Had  it  been 
more  rarefied,  it  would  not  have  fupported  its  inhab- 
itants, nor  have  afforded  fufHcient  moifture  for  the  pur- 
pofes  of  refplration.  What  then  but  infinite  wlfdom 
could  have  tempered  the  air  fo  nicely,  as  to  give  it  fuf- 
ficient  ftrength  to  fupport  clouds  for  rain,  to  afford 
wind  for  health,  and  at  the  fame  time  to  pofTefs  the 
power  of  conveying  found  and  light  ?  How  wonderful 
is  this  element !  How  clearly  does  it  difcover  infinite 
wifdom,  power,  and  goodnefs  ! 

5.  But  when  we  cafl  our  eyes  up  to  the  firmament 
of  heaven,  we  clearly  fee  that  it  declares  God's  handy 
work.  Here  the  immenfe  theatre  of  God's  works  opens 
upon  us,  and  dlfclofes  ten  thoufand  magnificent,  fplen- 
did  objects.  We  dwindle  to  nothing  in  comparifoa 
with  this  augufl  fcene  of  beauty,  majefty,  and  glory.  > 
Who  reared  this  vaft  arch  over  our  heads  ?  Who 
adorned  it  with  fo  many  fhining  obje(Sl:s,  placed  at  fuch 
immenfe  diflances  from  each  other,  regular  in  their 
motions,  invariably  obferving  the  laws  to  which  they 
were  originally  fubje<Sted  ?  Who  placed  the  fun  at 
fuch  a  convenient  diftance  as  not  to  annoy,  but  refrelli 
us  ?  Who,  for  fo  many  ages,  has  caufed  him  to  rife  and 
fet  at  fixed  times  ?  Whofe  hand  diredls,  and  whofe 
power  reflrains  him  in  his  courfe,  caufing  him  to  pro«^ 
duce  the  agreeable  changes  of  day  and  night,  as  well 
as  the  variety  of  feafons  ? 

The  order, harmony,  and  regularity  in  the  revolutions 
of  the  heavenly  bodies,  are  fuch  inconteflable  proofs  of 
the  exiflence  of  God,  that  an  eminent  poet  well  faid, 
*<  An  undevout  aftronomer  is  mad."  In  the  time  of 
Cicero,  when  the  knowledge  of  aftronomy  was  very  im- 
perfe^l,  he  did  not  hefitate  to  declare,  that  in  his  opin- 
ion the  man  who  afTerted  the  heavenly  bodies  were  not 
framed  and  moved  by  a  divine  underftjinding,  was  Mm- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  20 1 

felf  void  of  all  underftandlng.  Well  indeed  is  it  faid, 
that  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God. 

This  great  Being  is  every  where  prefent.  He  exifts 
all  around  us.  He  is  not,  as  we  are  apt  to  imagine, 
at  a  great  diftance.  Wherever  we  turn,  his  image 
meets  our  view.  V/e  fee  him  in  the  earth,  in  the 
ocean,  in  the  air,  in  the  fun,  moon,  and  ftars.  We 
feel  him  in  ourfelves.  He  is  always  working  round  us  ; 
he  performs  the  greateft  operations,  produces  the  no- 
blefl  effects,  difcovers  hlmfelf  in  a  thoufand  different 
ways,  and  yet  the  real  GOD  remains  unfeen.  All 
parts  of  creation  are  equally  under  his  infpeflion. 
Though  he  warms  the  breaft  of  the  highell  angel  in 
heaven,  yet  he  breathes  life  into  the  meaneft  infe<Sl:  on 
earth.  He  lives  through  all  his  works,  fupporting  all 
by  the  word  of  his  power.  He  fhines  in  the  verdure 
that  clothes  the  plains,  in  the  lily  that  delights  the  vale, 
and  in  the  foreft  that  waves  on  the  mountain.  He 
fupports  the  (lender  reed  that  trembles  in  the  breeze, 
and  the  (lurdy  oak  that  defies  the  tempeft.  His  pref- 
ence  cheers  the  inanimate  creation. 

Far  in  the  wildernefs,  where  human  eye  never  faw, 
where  the  favage  foot  never  trod,  there  he  bids  the 
blooming  foreft  fmile,  and  the  blufhing  rofe  open  its 
leaves  to  the  morning  fun.  There  he  caufes  the  feath- 
ered inhabitants  to  whiftle  their  wild  notes  to  the  lift- 
enins;  trees  and  echoino;  mountains.  There- nature 
lives  in  all  her  wanton  wildnefs.  There  the  ravifhed 
eye,  hurrying  from  fcene  to  fcene,  is  loft  in  one  vaft 
blufh  of  beauty.  From  the  dark  ftream  that,  rolls 
through  the  foreft,  the  ftlver  fcaled  filh  leap  up,  and 
dumbly  mean  the  praife  of  God.  Though  man  remain 
filent,  yet  God  will  have  praife.  He  regards,  obferves^ 
upholds,  connects,  and  equals  all. 

The  belief  of  his  exiftence  is  not  a  point  of  mere  fpec- 
ulation  and  amufement.  It  is  of  inconceivable  import- 
ance to  our  prefent,  as  well  as  future  felicity.  But 
while  we  believe  there  is  a  God,  we  fliould  be  extreme* 
ly  careful  to  afcertain,  with  as  much  accuracy  as  pofti-* 


ioa        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

ble,  what  is  his  real  nature.  The  moft  prominent  fea- 
tures of  this  are  exhibited  in  that  incomprehenfible  dif- 
play  of  wifdom,  power,  and  goodnefs,  made  in  the 
works  of  creation.  A  virtuous  man  ftands  in  a  rela- 
tion to  God  which  is  peculiarly  delightful.  The  divine 
perfeclions  are  all  engaged  in  his  defence.  He  feels 
powerful  in  God's  power,  wife  in  his  wifdom,  good  in 
his  goodnefs. 

The  vicious  man,  on  the  contrary,  flands  in  a  rela- 
tion to  God,  which  is  of  all  things  the  moft  dreadful. 
He  is  unwilling  to  know  thst  God  has  fufficlent  wifdom^ 
to  fearch  out  all  his  wickednefs,  fufhcient  goodnefs 
to  the  univerfe  to  determine  to  punifh  that  wickednefs, 
and  fufficient  power  to  execute  that  determination.  A 
firm  belief  in  the  exiftence  of  God  will  heighten  all 
the  enjoyments  of  life,  and,  by  conforming  our  hearts 
to  his  will,  will  fecure  the  approbation  of  a  good  con^ 
icience,  and  infpire  us  with  the  hopes  of  a  blefled  im- 
mortality. 

Never  be  tempted  to  diibelieve  the  exiftence  of  God, 
when  every  thing  around  you  proclaims  it  in  a  language 
too  plain  not  to  be  under ftood.  Never  caft  your  eyes 
on  creation  without  having  your  fouls  expanded  with 
tliis  fentiment,  <«  There  is  a  God."  When  you  fur- 
A^ey  this  globe  of  earth,  with  all  its  appendages  ;  when 
you  behold  it  inhabited  by  numberlefs  ranks  of  crea- 
tures, all  moving  in  their  proper  fpheres,  all  verging 
to  their  proper  ends,  all  animated  by  the  fame  great 
fource  of  life,  all  fupported  at  the  fame  great  bounte- 
ous table  J  when  you  behold  not  only  the  earth,  but 
the  ocean  and  the  air,  fwarming  with  living  creatmes, 
all  happy  in  their  fttuation ;  when  you  behold  yonder 
fun,  darting  an  effulgent  blaze  of  glory  over  the  heav- 
ens, garnifliing  mighty  worlds,  and  waking  ten  thou- 
fand  fongs  of  praife  ;  when  you  behold  unnumbered 
fyftems  difflifed  through  vaftimmeniity,  clothed  in  fplen- 
dour,  and  rolling  in  majefty  5  when  you  behold  thefe 
things,  your  affedlions  will  rife  above  all  the  vanities 
of  time  j  your  full  fouls  will  ftruggle  with  ecftacy,  and 


» 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         -203 


your  reafon,  paflions,  and  feelings,  all  united,  will  rufh 
up  to  the  fkies,  with  a  devout  acknowledgment  of  the 
cxiftence,  power,  wifdom,  and  goodnefs  of  God. 

Let  us  behold  him,  let  us  wonder,  let  us  praife  and 
adore.  Thefe  things  will  make  us  happy.  They  will 
wean  us  from  vice,  and  attach  us  to  virtue.  As  a  be- 
lief of  the  exiftence  of  God  is  a  fundamental  point  of 
falvation,  he  who  denies  it  runs  the  greateft  conceiva- 
ble hazard.  He  refigns  the  fatisfa<Stion  of  a  good  con- 
fcience,  quits  the  hopes  of  a  happy  immortality,  and 
expofes  himfeif  to  deftruclion.  All  this  for  what  ? 
for  the  fliort-lived  pleafures  of  a  riotous,  diilblute  life. 
How  wretched,  when  he  finds  his  atheiftical  confidence 
totally  difappointed  !  Inflead  of  his  beloved  fl^ep  and 
infenfibility,  with  which  he  fo  fondly  flattered  himfeif, 
he  will  find  himfeif  ftill  exifting  after  death,  removed 
to  a  ftrange  place  ;  he  will  then  find  that  there  is  a 
God,  who  will  not  fufFer  his  rational  creatures  to  fall 
into  annihilation  as  a  refuge  from  the  juft  punifhment 
of  their  crimes  ;  he  will  find  himfeif  doomed  to  drag 
on  a  wretched  train  of  exiftence  in  unavailing  woe  and 
lamentation.  Alas !  how  aftonifhed  will  he  be  to  find 
himfeif  plunged  in  the  abyfs  of  ruin  and  defperation ! 
God  forbid  that  any  of  us  Ihould  adl  fo  unwifely  as  to 
difbelieve,  when  every  thing  around  us  proclaims  his 
exiftence ! 


The  Dignity  of  Human  Nature. 

Extract  of  an  Oration  delivered  at  Rhode- 
Island  College,  ly^C. 

GUIDED  by  reafon,  man  has  travelled  through 
the  abftrufe  regions  of  the  philofophic  world. 
He  has  originated  rules  by  which  he  can  diredl  the  fhip 
through  the  pathlefs  ocean,  and  meafure  the  comet's 
flight  over  the  fields  of  unlimited  fpace.  He  has  eftab- 
iifhed  fociety  and  government.  He  can  aggregate  the 
profufions  of  every  climate,  and  every  icafon.  He  can 
meliorate  the  fevcfrity,  and  remedy  the  imperfections, 


204  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

of  nature  herfelf.  All  thefe  things  he  can  perform  by 
the  afiiftance  of  reafon. 

By  imagination,  m.an  feems  to  verge  towards  crea- 
tive power.  Aided  by  this,  he  can  perform  all  the 
wonders  of  fculpture  and  painting.  He  can  almoft 
make  the  marble  fpeak.  He  can  almoft  make  the 
brook  murmur  down  the  painted  landfcape.  Often, 
on  the  pinions  of  imagination,  he  foars  aloft  where  the 
eye  has  never  travelled  ;  where  other  ffars  glitter  on 
the  mantle  of  night,  and  a  m.ore  effulgent  fun  lights  up 
the  bluflies  of  morning..  Flying  from  world  to  v/orld, 
he  gazes  on  all  the  glories  of  creation  ;  or,  lighting  on 
the  diftant  margin  of  the  univerfe,  darts  the  eye  of  fan- 
cy over  the  mighty  void,  where  power  creative  never 
yet  has  energized  ;  where  exiftence  fdll  fleeps  in  the 
v^ide  abyfs  of  poilibility. 

By  imagination,  he  can  travel  back  to  the  fource  of 
time  *,  converfe  with  the  fucceflive  generations  of  men 
and  kindle  into  emulation  while  he  furveysthe  monu- 
mental trophies  of  ancient  art  and  glory.  Ke  can  fail 
down  the  flream  of  time  until  he  lofes   ^*  lioht  of  (tars 

o 

and  'fim,  by  wandering  into  thofe  retired  parts  of  eter- 
nity, wlisn  the  heavens  and  the  earth  fiiall  be  no  more." 

To  thefe  unequivocal  chai-a^leri fries  of  greatnefs  in 
man,  let  us  adduce  the  teftimony  of  nature  herfelf. 
Surrounding  creation  fubferves  the  wants  and  proclaims 
the  dignity  of  man.  For  him  day  and  night  vilit  the 
world.  For  him  the  feafons  walk  their  fplendid  round. 
For  him  the  earth  teems  with  riches,  and  the  hea,vens 
fmile  with  beneficence. 

All  creation  is  accurately  adjufted  to  his  capacity  for 
folifs.  He  taftes  the  dainties  of  feftivity,  breathes  the 
perfumes  of  morning,  revels  on  the  charms  of  melody, 
and  regales  his  eye  with  all  the  painted  beauties  of  vi- 
fion.  Whatever  can  pleafe,  whatever  can  charm,  what- 
ever can  expand  the  foul  with  ecftacy  of  blifs,  allures 
and  folicits  his  attention.  All  things  beautiful,  all 
things  grand,  all  things  fublime,  appear  in  native  love- 
iinefs,  and  proffer  man  the  ri^heft  pleafures  of  fruition. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORA'^TOR.         205 

Infernal  Conference. 

ft  ,        XT'RIENDS  and  confederates,  welcome  !  for 

«'''^"-    l*  this  proof 

Of  your  affiance,  thanks.     On  every  call. 

Whether  we  need  your  counfel  or  your  arms, 

joyful  I  fee  your  ready  zeal  difplays 

Virtues,  which  hell  itfelf  cannot  corrupt. 

I  mean  not  to  declaim  :  the  occafion  told 

Speaks  its  own  import,  and  the  time's  difpatch 

All  wafte  of  words  forbids.     God's  Son  on  earth> 

Chriil:,  the  reveal'd  Mellias,  how  t'  oppofe 

Is  now  the  queflion ;  by  what  force,  or  power ; 

(Temptations  have  been  tried,  I  name  not  them;) 

Or  dark  confpiracy,  we  m-ay  pull  down 

This  Sun  of  Righteouihcfs  from  his  bright  fphere, 

Declare,  who  can.     I  paufe  for  a  reply. 

Baal.     Why  thus  on  me,  as  I  were  worthy  j  me, 
Loft  being  like  yourfelves ;  as  I  alone 
Could  compafs  this  high  argument  •,  on  me, 
Leaft  in  your  fapient  conclave ;  why  you  point 
Thefe  fcrutinizing  looks,  I  mufe  -,  and,  aw'd 
By  this  your  expe(Station,  fain  would  Ihrink 
From  the  great  taflt  to  filence,  had  you  not 
O'er  thefe  poor  faculties  fuch  full  control. 
As  to  put  by  all  pleas,  and  call  them  forth 
In  heav'n  or  earth,  or  hell's  profound  abyfs. 
Yours  in  all  ufes,  prefent  at  all  hours. 
Our  kingly  chief  hath  told  us  we  are  met 
To  combat  Chrift  on  earth.     Be't  fo  !  We  yet 
May  try  our  fortune  in  another  field ; 
Worfe  fortune  than  in  heav'n  befel  cur  arms ; 
Worfe  downfall  than  to  hell,  we  cannot  prove. 
But  with  the  fcene  our  acflion  too  muft  change : 
How  ?  to  what  warfare  ?  Circumvention,  fraud, 
Sedu6lion ;  thefe  are  earthly  weapons ;  thefe 
As  man  to  man  oppofes,  fo  muft  we 
To  Chrift  incarnate.     There  be  fome,  who  cry, 
S 


2o6         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Hence  with  fuch  daftard  arts  !  War,  open  war ! 

I  honor  fuch  bold  counfellors,  and  yield 

All  that  I  can,  my  praife  :  till  one  be  found, 

One  that  may  rival  God's  own  Son  in  power, 

And  miracle  to  miracle  oppofe. 

More  than  my  praife  I  cannot ;  my  aflent 

I  will  not  give  j  'twere  madnefs.     And  how  war 

With  God  ?  what  arms  may  we  employ  'gainft  him, 

Whofe  very  prophets  can  call  down  heaven's  fires 

Upon  our  priefis  and  altars  ?  For  myfelf, 

What  powers  I  had  I  fhall  not  foon  forget  *, 

What  I  have  left  I  knov/,  and  for  your  ufe 

Shall  hufband  as  I  may,  not  vainly  rifk 

Where  they  mud  furely  fail.     The  Jews  pretend 

That  Chrifb  colludes  with  Beelzebub  ;  the  Jews 

As  far  miftake  my  nature  as  my  name. 

The  fallacy,  O  peers,  confutes  itfelf, 

Forg'd  to  difparage  Chrift,  not  honor  me. 

Oh  !  that  I  had  his  wonder-working  powers  5 

I'm  net  that  fool  to  turn  them  on  myfelf: 

No,  my  brave  friends,  I've  yet  too  much  to  lofe. 

Therefore  no  more  of  Beelzebub  and  Chrift ; 

No  league,  no  compact  can  we  hold  together. 

W^hat  then  enfues  ?  Defpair  ?  Perifh  the  thought  I 

The  brave  renounce  it,  and  the  wife  prevent ; 

You  are  both  wife  and  brave.     Our  leader  fays 

Temptations  have  been  tried,  and  tried  in  vain, 

Himfelf  the  tempter.     Who  will  tread  that  ground, 

Where  he  was  foil'd  f  For  Adam  a  mere  toy. 

An  apple  ferv'd  ;  Chrift  is  not  brib'd  by  worlds : 

So  much  the  fecond  Man  exceeds  the  firft 

In  flrength  and  glory.     But  though  Chrifl  himfelf 

Will  not  be  tempted,  thofe  who  hear  him  may : 

Jews  may  be  urg'd  to  envy,  to  revenge, 

To  murder  :  a  rebellious  race  of  old  ! 

Wift  ye  not  what  a  train  this  preacher  hath, 

W^hat  followers,  what  difciples  ?  Thefe  are  men, 

Mere  men,  frail  fons  of  Adam,  born  in  fin. 

Here  is  our  hope.     I  leave  it  to  your  thoughts. 


THE  GOLUxMBIAN  ORATOR.  207 

Moloch.     My  thoughts  it  feems  are  known  before  I 
fpeak ; 
War,  open  war  is  all  my  note.     I  rife 
To  thank  the  prophet,  wlio  thus  reads  my  heart, 
Where  honefty  fhould  wear  it,  in  my  face ; 
<     That  face  from  danger  I  did  never  hide  ; 
I     How  then  from  him  ?  Nor  am  I  by  his  praiie 
I     More  honor'd  than  by  his  diflenting  voice  : 
;.    For  whilft  he  counfcis  circumvention,  fraud, 
V  Sedu(fi:ion,  (if  my  memory  wrong  his  words 
I  yield  it  to  correction)  we  ftand  ofF, 
V/ide  as  the  poles  apart.     Much  I  had  hop'd, 
.    When  the  great  tempter  fail'd,  and  in  your  ^ars 
''.    Sung  his  own  honor's  dirge,  we  had  heard  the  lad 
Of  plots  and  mean  temptations ;  mean  I  call  them, 
.  For  great  names  cannot  fandlify  mean  deeds. 
£,  Satan  himfelf  knows  I  oppos'd  th'  attempt, 
^:   Appealed,  protelled  •,  my  thrice  honor'd  chief 
1    Knows  it  full  well,  and  blufhes  for  th'  event. 

And  are  we  now  caballing  how  t'  outwit 
-,  A  few  poor  harmlefs  filhermen  ;  for  fuch 
;>   Are  Chrlft's  difciples  ;  how  to  gull  and  cheat 
'    Their  fimple  hearts  of  honefty  ?  Oh  peers. 
For  fliame,  if  not  for  pity,  leave  them  that, 
That  beggar's  virtue.     And  is  ihis  the  theme, 
The  mighty  theme,  which  now  employs  the  thoughts 
Of  your  immortal  fynod  ?  Shame,  Oh  fliame  ! 
Princes,  dominions,  arch-angelic  thrones. 
Imperial  lords  !   thefe  were  your  titles  once  ; 
By  thefe  names  ye  were  known  above  the  ftars  : 
Shame  not  your  ancient  dignities,  nor  link 
Beneath  the  vileft  of  the  fons  of  men, 
Whifperers,  informers,  fpies.     If  Chrift  be  God, 
Fight  as  becometh  you  to  fight,  with  God  : 
If  man,  and  fure  his  birth  befpeaks  no  more. 
Why  all  this  preparation,  this  confult, 
Thefe  mighty  machinations  and  cabals  ? 
OfF  with  your  foe  at  once  ;  difmifs  him  hence 
Where  all  his  brother  prophets  have  been  fent  \ 


20 8  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Where  his  precurfor  John  is  gone  before  ; 

Whofe  voice  ftill  echoes  through  this  wilderneG-j 

«'  Repent  ye,  for  God's  kingdom  is  at  hand  ! 

Prepare  ye  the  Lord's  way  !"  It  is  prepar'd  ; 

It  leads  to  death  ;  it  marfhals  hirn  the  road 

To  that  oblivious  bourne,  whence  none  return. 

Herod  yet  lives ;  another  royal  feafl, 

Another  wanton  dance,  and  he,  for  whom 

So  many  innocents  were  flain,  fliall  fail. 

Once  vanquifh'd,  are  we  therefore  to  defpair  ? 

In  heav'n,  unequal  battle  we  provok'd ; 

Though  vaft  our  hoil-,  the  million  was  with  God. 

On  cafthj  inquire  of  all  the  nations  round 

Whom  they  will  ferve  ;  with  one  voice  they  reply, 

JVe  are  their  gods ;  they  feed  us  v/ith  their  blood. 

Their  fons  and  daughters  they  make  pafs  through  iira 

Fo  do  us  grace  :  if  their  own  flefli  they  give, 

Shall  they  withhold  to  facrifice  a  foe  ? 

Twelve  tribes  were  all  Jehovah  had  on  earth, 

And  ten  are  loft  •,  of  this  fmali  remnant,  few 

And  wretched  are  the  friends  that  league  with  Heav'n, 

x\iid  where  is  now  Chrift's  promised  reign  on  earth"? 

IVhen  God's  own  fervants  rife  againft  his  Son, 

And  thofe,  to  whom  the  promifes  were  giv'n. 

Revolt  from  their  Meflias,  can  we  vHlh 

Greater  revenge  ?  What  need  have  we  to  tempt 

Thofe,  who  have  hearts  rebellious  as  our  own. 

As  prompt  to  malice,  no  lefs  prone  to  vex 

God's  righteous  Spirit  ?  And  let  come  what  may. 

It  conies  not  to  our  lofs,  rather  our  gain. 

Let  God  arife  to  vengeance  ;  let  him  pour 

Defcruftion  on  his  temple,  whofe  proud  height 

Our  chief  can  witnefs,  meafur'd  by  his  fall : 

Let  him  not  leave  one  ftone  upon  another. 

As  hisrafli  Son  hath  menae'd  ;  let  his  wrath 

Tlirough  all  th'  inhofpitable  earth  difperfc 

liis  fcatter'd  tribes  ;  fuch  ever  be  the  fate 

Of  all  his  worfliippers  !   May  fcorn,  contempt^ 

Derifion  be  their  lot,  and  miw  their  God 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2o(? 

Never  recal  his  ciirfe !   Are  we,  O  peers, 
To  mourn  for  his  Jerufalem  ?  Our  joy 
'Springs  from  confuiion  :  enmity  'twixt  God 
And  man  is  our  belt  triumph.     For  myfelf, 
War  is  my  harveft  ;  then  my  altars  blaze 
Brightefl:,  when  human  vidtims  feed  the  flame. 

Belial.     After  fo  many  peaceful  ages  paO: 
Since  firfi:  emerging  from  hell's  dark  abyfs,, 
Rous'd  by  our  arch-angclic  chief,  we  fprung 
Up  to  this  middle  region,  and  here  feiz'd 
On  this  terredriai  globe,  created  firfi: 
For  man,  our  vailal  now,  where,  at  full  eafe, 
'Lords  of  the  elements  and  o-ods  ador'd. 
We  reign  and  revel  undifturb'd  of  Heav'n. 
If  God,  whofe  jealoufy  be  fure  ill  brooks 
That  this  fair  world  lliould  be  {o  long  poUefs'd 
By  us  his  exil'd  angels,  and  his  name. 
Pent  up  in  Paleftine,  iliould  now  aroufe 
His  {lumb':ing  wrath,  and  his  bed  llrength  put  forth 
To  wreftle  for  loft  empire,  and  our  earth, 
As  we  in  evil  hour  his  hcav'n,  afTail, 
Who  of  this  mighty  fynod  but  mull  own 
The  provocation  warrants  the  retort  ? 
If  then  the  Maker  of  mankind  hath  caufe 
To  meditate  their  refcue,  we  no  lefs 
Have  caufe  t'  oppofe  th'  attempt,  and  hold  them  faft 
To  their  allegiance  in  defpite  of  Heav*n. 
Much  then  v^-e  owe  to  our  great  leader's  care. 
Who,  ever  watchful  o'er  the  public  weal, 
Calls  us  to  this  full  council,  here  to  meet 
In  grave  confult  how  beft  we  may  repair 
Paft  difappointments,  and  repel  the  fpite 
Of  this  new  Champion,  levell'd  at  our  (brines. 
Great  is  the  trouble  of  my  thoughts,  O  peers. 
And  much  perplexed  am  I  with  doubts,  what  name. 
Nature,  and  office  to  afcribe  to  Chrift  j 
In  form  the  lowliefl  of  the  fons  of  men. 
In  miracles  omnipotent  as  God ; 
Whofe  voice  controls  the  ftouteft  of  our  hefty 
s  2 


2 1  o         THE  COLUMBIAN  OR ATOR. 

Bids  tlie  graves  open  and  their  dcTid  come  forth  ; 

Whofe  very  touch  is  health  ;  who  with  a  glance 

Pervades  each  lieart,  abfolves  it  or  condemns  ; 

AVhofe  virgin  birth  credulity  fcarce  owns, 

And  nature  difavow!].     Prais'd  to  all  time. 

Immortal  as  himf^^lf  be  the  renown 

Of  that  wife  fpirit,  who  fliall  devife  the  means 

By  force  or  fraud  to  overthrow  the  power 

Of  this  rayfierious  foe  :  what  fhall  1  fay  ? 

Prieft-,  Prophet,  King,  MefTiiis,  Son  of  God  ? 

Yet  how  God's  unity,  which,  well  we  know 

Endures  no  fecond,  ihould  adopt  a  Son, 

And  elTence  indiviilble  divide. 

Baffles  ray  v/eak  conjeiSlure.     Let  that  pafs  ! 

To  fuch  hard  do<^lrines  I  fubfcribe  no  faith  : 

I'ii  call  him  man  infpir'd,  and  wait  till  death 

Gives  fentence  of  mortality  upon  him. 

Meanwhile  let  circumfpecftion  on  our  part 

Fill  all  the  anxious  interim ;  alarm 

Rome's  jealoufy  ;  ftir  up  the  captious  fpleen 

Of  the  proud  Pharifee  ;  befet  him  round 

With  fnares  to  catch  him ;  urge  the  envious  prleih, 

For  envy  ftill  beneath  the  altar  lurks  j 

And  note  the  man  he  trufts.     Mammon  could  tell, 

Though  Mammon  boafts  not  of  his  own  fuccefs. 

How  few  of  human  mould  have  yet  withftood 

His  glittering,  golden  lures.     The  fword  can  kill 

Man's  body  ;  gold  deftroys  his  very  fold. 

Yet  mark  me  well,  I  counfel  not  to  tempt 

The  Mafter ;  poverty  can  do  no  more 

Than  his  own  mortifying  penance  does. 

Hunger  and  thirft  and  obftinately  ftarve, 

Yf  hen  his  mere  wifli  could  make  the  rock  a  fpring, 

And  its  hard  fragments,  bread.     Yet  fure  I  am 

All  are  not  Chrift's  in  heart,  who  with  their  lips 

Confefs  him  ;  tliefe  are  men,  and  therefore  frail, 

Frail  and  corruptible.     And  let  none  fay. 

Fear  prompts  this  counfel  j  I  difclaim  all  fear 

But  for  the  general  caufe.     In  every  heart 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  211 

Nature  hath  built  my  altar  ;  every  iecfl. 
Nation  and  language  with  one  voice  confefs 
Pleafure  the  lovereign  good.     The  Stoic  churl. 
The  clogged  cynic  fnarling  in  his  tub, 
And  all  the  ragged  moralizing  crew. 
Are  hypocrites  ;  philofophy  itfelf 
Is  but  my  votary  beneath  a  cloak. 
It  harms  not  me,  though  every  idol  god 
Were  tumbled  from  his  bafe  ;  alike  I  fcorn 
Samfon's  ftrong  nerve  and  Daniel's  flaming  zeal. 
And  let  Chrift  preach  his  mortifying  rules  ; 
Let  him  go  fortli  through  all  the  Gentile  world. 
And  on  the  ruin  of  our  fanes  ere<^ 
His  church  triumphant  o'er  the  gates  of  hell, 
Still,   ilill  man's  heart  will  draw  the  fecret  figh 
For  pleafures  unenjoyed  ;  the  gloomy  cell 
And  melancholy  faft,  the  midnight  prayer, 
And  pale  contrition  weeping  o'er  her  lamp, 
Are  penances,  from  which  the  fenfe  revolts, 
Fines,  that  compounding  fuperftition  pays 
For  pleafures  paft,  or  bribes  for  more  to  come, 

Satan,     Enough  of  this  vain  boafl:, 
More  than  enough  of  thefe  voluptuous  ftrains, 
Which,  though  they  lull  the  ear,  difarm  the  foul 
Of  its  beft  attribute.     Not  gaudy  flowers 
Are  cull'd  for  med'cine,  but  the  humble  weed. 
True  wifdom,  ever  frugal  of  her  fpeech. 
Gives  fage  advice  in  plain  and  homely  words. 
The  fum  of  all  our  reafoning  ends  in  this. 
That  nothing  but  the  death  of  Chrifl:  can  folve 
The  myft'ry  of  his  nature :  till  he  falls 
Scarce  can  I  fay  we  ftand.     All  voices  then, 
Though  varying  in  the  means,  confpire  his  death , 
Some  cautioufly  as  Baal ;  fome  with  zeal 
Precipitate  as  Moloch,  whofe  fwift  thought 
Vaults  over  all  impediments  to  feize 
The  goal  of  his  ambition.     But,  O  peers. 
Ours  is  no  trivial  care  ;  dire£l  your  flght 
Along  the  rank§  of  that  redeemed  hoR, 


-12         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 

On  us  hangs  all  their  fafety.     Night  and  day 
My  anxious  thoughts  are  lab'ring  in  their  caufe  ; 
And  whilft  Chrift  walks  the  earth,  I  take  no  reft  ; 
A  watchful  fpy  forever  at  his  lide. 
Noting  each  word  and  deed  ;  fometimes  I  mix 
With  the  felcdted  Twelve  that  page  his  fteps  ; 
Of  thefe,  though  fome  have  waver'd,  none  is  falfe 
Save  one  alone,  Ifcariot  he  by  name  ; 
The  taint  of  avarice  hath  touch'd  his  heart  ; 
I've  mark'd  him  for  my  own.     Hear,  princes,  hear  ! 
This  night  the  priefts  and  elders  will  convene 
Their  fecret  conclave  :  I  am  in  their  hearts. 
Burning  with  envy,  malice,  and  revenge, 
Their  only  thought  is  how  to  tangle  Chrift, 
In  whom  of  force  I  own  no  guile  is  i;  rad. 
But  gentlenefs  inftead,  and  perfect  truth ', 
A  lamb  in  nature  without  fpot  and  pure  ^ 
Fit  vidlim  therefore  for  their  Pafchal  rites, 
Which  now  are  near  at  hand  :  apt  is  the  hour. 
Apt  are  the  inftruments.     What  now  remains 
But  to  fend  forth  a  tempter  to  perfuade 
Ifcariot  to  betray  his  mafters'  life. 
And  damn  himfelf  for  gold  ?  Speak,  is  there  one, 
One  in  this  patriot  circle,  whom  all  eyes 
Point  out  for  this  emprife  ?  Moft  fure  there  is , 
Belial  hath  well  predifted  of  our  choice  : 
Mammon,  ftand  forth  !  on  thee  th'  election  lights. 
Mammon,     Prince  of  this  world  !  to  whom  thefe  ar 
mies  owe, 
(Loft  but  for  thee  in  everlafting  night) 
The  glorious  profpecft  of  yon  riiing  fun, 
'Tis  not  t'  evade  the  labour,  but  prevent 
The  failure  of  your  hopes,  that  I  befeech 
Your  wifdom  to  correct  its  choice,  and  lodge 
This  arduous  embafly  in  abler  hands  : 
Nathlefs,  if  fuch  your  will,  and  my  compeeri 
Adjudge  me  to  this  fervice,  I  fubmit. 
In  me  is  no  repugnance,  no  delay  ; 
Forever  what  thefe  toiling  bands  could  do, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2 13 

Or  patient  thoughts  devife,  that  I  have  done  ; 

Whether  in  heaven  ordain'd  to  undermine 

God's  adamantine  throne,  or  doom'd  to  dig 

The  folid  fulphur  of  heiFs  burning  foil, 

Fearlefs  I  wrought,  and,  were  there  no  tongues  elfe 

To  vouch  my  fervices,  thefe  fears  would  fpeak. 

How  many  daintier  fpirits  do  I  fee 

Fair  as  in  heav'n,  and  in  frefh  bloom  of  youth, 

Whilft  I,  with  flirivell'd  linews  cramp'd  and  fcorclVd, 

'Midft  peftilential  damps  and  fiery  blafls. 

Drag  as  you  fee  a  miferable  load, 

Age-ftruck  v/ithout  the  laft  refource  of  d.eath  : 

This  for  myf^lf :  no  more.     You'r  not  to  learn 

The  fnares  which  I  employ  arc  golden  fnares ; 

Thefe  are  my  arts  ;  and  like  the  crafty  flave, 

Who  in  Rome's  Circus  hurls  the  fatal  net 

Over  his  fierce  purfuer,  fo  oft  times 

Have  I  entangled  the  proud  hearts  of  men. 

And  made  their  courage  ftoop  to  fhameful  bribes, 

Paid  for  diGioneft  deeds,  perjuries  and  plots. 

That  draw  them  off  from  God,  who  elfe  had  fill'd 

His  courts  ere  now  with  guefts,  and  peopled  heav'fi. 

Thefe  weapons  and  thefe  hands  you  ftill  command  5 

So  dear  I  hold  the  general  caufe  at  heart, 

So  difciplin'd  am  I  in  duty's  fchool. 

That  recklefs  of  all  hazard  I  prefent 

Myfelf  your  fervant,  or  if  fo  fate  wills, 

Your  facrifice  :  for  though  from  mortal  man 

DifcomfiLure  I  dread  not ;  yet  if  Chrift, 

Whom  the  great  tempter  foil'd  not,  fhall  ftand  forth 

The  champion  of  his  followers,  witnefs  for  me, 

You,  my  brave  peers,  and  this  angelic  hoft, 

I  fought  not  this  bold  height,  whence  if  I  fall, 

I  do  but  fall  where  Satan  could  not  ftand. 

Satan,     Go  then  j 
Go,  brave  adventurer,  go  where  glory  calls  : 
Aufpicious  thoughts  engender  in  my  breaft. 
And  now  prophetic  vifions  burft  upon  me  : 
T  fee  the  traitor  Judas  with  a  b;ind 


214         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Of  midnight  ruffians  feize  his  peaceful  Lord  : 
They  drag  him  to  the  bar,  accufe,  condemn ; 
He  bleeds,  he  dies !  Darknefs  involves  the  reft. 
Afcend  the  air,  brave  fpirit,  and  'midft  the  fliout 
Of  grateful  myriads  wing  thy  courfe  to  fame. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech  in  the 
British  Parliament,  May  13,  1777. 

My  Lords, 

THIS  is  a  flying  moment ;  perhaps  but  fix  weeks 
left  to  arreft  the  dangers  that  furround  us.  It  is 
difficult  for  government,  after  all  that  has  pafled,  to 
Ihake  hands  with  defiers  of  the  king,  defiers  of  the  Par- 
liament, defiers  of  the  people.  I  am  a  defier  of  nobody ; 
but  if  an  end  is  not  put  to  this  war,  there  is  an  end  to 
this  kingdom.  I  do  not  truft  my  judgment  in  my  pref- 
ent  ftate  of  health  ;  this  is  the  judgment  of  my  better 
days ;  the  refult  of  forty  years  attention  to  America. 
They  are  rebels  !  but  what  are  they  rebels  for  ?  Surely 
not  for  defending  their  unqueftionable  rights  !  What 
have  thefe  rebels  done  heretofore  !  I  remember  when 
they  raifed  four  regiments  on  their  own  bottom,  and 
took  Louifburg  from  the  veteran  troops  of  France. 

But  their  excefles  have  been  great  !  I  do  not  mean 
their  panegyric  ;  but  muft  obferve,  in  extenuation,  the 
erroneous  and  infatuated  counfels,  which  have  pre- 
vailed. The  door  to  mercy  and  juftice  has  been  fhut 
againft  them.  But  they  may  ftill  be  taken  up  upon  the 
grounds  of  their  former  fubmiffion.  I  ftate  to  you  the 
importance  of  America  ;  it  is  a  double  market ;  a  market 
of  confumption,  and  a  market  of  fupply.  This  double 
market  for  millions  with  naval  ftores,  you  are  giving 
to  your  hereditary  rival. 

America  has  carried  you  through  four  wars,  and  will 
now  carry  you  to  your  death,  if  you  do  not  take  things 
in  time.     In  the  fportfman's  phrafe,  when  you  have 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         2 1 5 

found  yourfelves  at  fault,  you  muft  try  back.  You  have 
ranfacked  every  corner  of  lower  Saxony  ♦,  but  forty 
thoufand  German  boors  never  can  conquer  ten  times 
the  number  of  Britifh  freemen.  They  may  ravage  ; 
they  cannot  conquer.  But  you  would  conquer,  you 
fay  !  Why,  what  would  you  conquer  ?  the  map  of 
America  ?  I  am  ready  to  meet  any  general  officer  on 
the  fubjecSt. 

What  will  you  do  out  of  the  protCiSlion  of  your 
fleet  ?  In  the  winter,  if  together,  they  are  flarved  ; 
and  if  difperfed,  they  are  taken  off  in  detail.  I  am  ex- 
perienced in  Jpring  hopes  and  vernal  promifes.  I 
know  what  minifters  throw  out ;  but  at  laft  will  come 
your  eqiimoclial  difappointment.  They  tell  you — 
what  ?  That  your  army  will  be  as  flrong  as  it  was 
laft  year,  when  it  was  not  ftrong  enough.  You  have 
gained  nothing  in  America  but  ftations.  You  have  been 
three  years  teaching  them  the  art  of  war.  They  are 
apt  fcholars  ;  and  I  will  venture  to  tell  your  lordfliips, 
that  the  American  gentry  will  make  officers  enough,  fit 
to  command  the  troops  of  all  the  European  powers. 
What  you  have  fent  there  are  too  many  to  make  peace, 
too  few  to  make  war. 

If  you  conquer  them,  what  then  ?  You  cannot  make 
them  refpe(Sl:  you  ;  you  cannot  make  them  wear  your 
cloth.  You  will  plant  an  invincible  hatred  in  their 
breafts  againft  you.  Coming  from  the  flock  they  do, 
they  can  never  refpedl  you.  If  miniflers  are  founded 
in  faying  there  is  no  fort  of  treaty  with  France,  there 
is  flill  a  moment  left ;  the  point  of  honor  is  flill  fafe. 
France  muft  be  as  felf-deftroying  as  England,  to  make 
a  treaty  while  you  are  giving  her  America,  at  the  ex- 
penfe  of  twelve  millions  a  year.  The  intercourfe  has 
produced  every  thing  to  France  ;  and  England,  poor 
old  England  muft  pay  for  all. 

I  have  at  different  times  made  different  propofitions, 
adapted  to  the  eircumftances  in  which  they  were  offer- 
ed. The  plan  contained  in  the  former  bill  is  now  im- 
pra^icable  \  the  prefent  motion  will  tell  you  where 


2i6         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

you  are,  and  what  you  have  now  to  depend  upon.  It 
may  produce  a  refpedlable  divifion  in  America,  and 
unanimity  at  home.  It  will  give  America  an  option  : 
fhe  has  yet  made  no  option.  You  have  faid,  Lay  down 
your  arms,  and  fhe  has  given  you  the  Spartan  anfwer, 
"  Come  and  take  them." 

I  will  get  out  of  my  bed,  on  Monda}^,  to  move  for 
an  immediate  redrefs  of  all  their  grievances,  and  for 
continuing  to  them  the  right  of  difpofing  of  their  own 
property.  This  will  be  the  herald  of  peace  *,  this  will 
open  the  way  for  treaty  •,  this  will  fliow  that  Parlia- 
ment is  iincerely  difpofed.  Yet  ftill  much  mufi:  be  left 
to  trca1:y.  Should  you  conquer  this  people,  you  con- 
quer under  the  cannon  of  France  -,  under  a  ma&ed  bat- 
tery then  ready  to  open.  The  moment  a  treaty  with 
France  appears,  you  muft  declare  war,  though  you  had 
only  five  fhips  of  the  line  in  England  ;  but  France  will 
defer  a  treaty  as  long  as  pcffible. 

Y'ou  are  now  at  the  mercy  of  every  little  German 
chancery  ;  and  the  prctenlions  of  France  will  increafe 
daily,  fo  as  to  become  an  avowed  party  in  either  peace 
or  war.  We  have  tried  for  unconditional  fubmiffion ; 
let  us  try  what  can  be  gained  by  unconditional  redrefs. 
Lefs  dignity  will  be  loft  in  the  repeal,  than  in  fubmit- 
ting  to  the  demands  of  German  chanceries.  We  are 
the  aggreflbrs.  We  have  invaded  them.  We  have 
invaded  them  as  much  as  the  Spanifh  armada  invaded 
England.  Mercy  cannot  do  harm  *,  it  will  feat  the 
king  where  he  ought  to  be,  throned  on  the  hearts  of 
his  people ;  and  millions  at  home  and  abroad,  now 
employed  in  obloquy  or  revolt,  would  then  pray  for 
himc 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2 1 7 


On  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

A    T  midnight,  when  mankind  are  wrap'd  in  peace, 
/-^  And  worldly  fancy  feeds  on  golden  dreams  ^ 
'io  give  more  dread  to  man's  mofl  dreadful  hour; 
At  midnight,  'tis  prefum'd,  this  pomp  will  burft 
From  tenfold  darknefs ;  fudden  as  the  fpark 
From  fmitten  fteel ;  from  nitrous  grain  the  blaze. 
Man,  flarting  from  his  couch,  fliall  fleep  no  more ! 
The  day  is  broke  which  never  more  fhall  ^ofe  I 
Above,  around,  beneath,  amazement  all ! 
Terror  and  glory  join'd  in  their  extremes  ! 
Our  God  in  grandeur,  and  our  world  on  fire ! 
All  nature  ftruggling  in  the  pangs  of  death  ! 
Doft  thou  not  hear  her  ?  Doft  thou  not  deplore 
Her  ftrong  convulfions,  and  her  final  groan  ? 
Where  are  we  now  ?  Ah  me  I  the  ground  is  gone, 
On  which  we  flood,  LORENZO  !  while  thou  may '11, 
Provide  more  firm  fupport,  or  fink  forever  ! 
"Where  ?  how  ?  from  whence  vain  hope  !  It  is  too  late ! 
Where,  ivhere^  for  fhelter,  fliall  the  ginlly  liy, 
AVhen  confternation  turns  the  good  man  pale  ? 

Great  day  !   for  which  all  other  days  were  made  ; 
For  which  earth  role  from  chaos,  man  from  earth ; 
And  an  eternity,  the  date  of  gods, 
Defcended  on  poor  earth- created  man  ! 
Great  day  of  dread,  decifion,  and  defpair  ! 
At  thought  of  thee,  each  fublunary  vvifh 
Lets  go  its  eager  grafp,  and  drops  the  world  \ 
And  catches  at  each  reed  of  hope  in  lieaven. 
At  thought  of  thee  !   And  art  thou  nhfent  then^ 
LORENZO  !  no  ;  'tis  here  ;  it  is  begun  \ 
Already  is  begun  the  grand  afUze, 
In  thee,  in  all.     Deputed  confcience  fcales 
The  dread  tribunal,  and  foreflals  uur  doom : 
Foreftals  *,  and,  by  foreflalling,  proves  it  fure. 
Why  on  himfelf  fhould  man  vo/J  judgment  pafs.? 
T 


2 1 8         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Is  idle  nature  laughing  at  her  fons  ? 

Who  confcience  fent,  her  fentence  will  fupport, 

And  God  above  aflert  that  God  in  man. 

Thrice  happy  they,  who  enter  now  the  court 
Heav'n  opens  in  their  bofoms  :  but,  how  rare ! 
Ah  me  !  that  magnanimity  how  rare  ! 
What  hero,  like  the  man  who  ftands  himfelf ; 
Who  dares  to  meet  his  naked  heart  alone  \ 
Who  hears,  intrepid,  the  full  charge  it  brings, 
Refolv'd  to  filence  future  murmurs  there  ? 
The  coward  flies  ;  and  flying  is  undone. 
(Art  thou  a  coward  ?  No.)     The  coward  flies  ; 
Thinks,  but  thinks  flightly  •,  aflcs,  but  fears  to  hioijo . 
Aflcs  "  What  is  truth  ?"  with  Pilate  ;  and  retires  •, 
Diflblves  the  court,  and  mingles  with  the  throng ; 
Afylum  fad  !  from  reafon,  hope,  and  heav'n  ! 

Shall  all,  but  man,  look  out  with  ardent  eye. 
For  that  great  day,  which  was  ordaln'd  for  man  ? 
O  day  of  confummation  1  Mark  fupreme 
(If  men  are  wife)  of  human  thought  !  nor  leaft. 
Or  in  the  fight  of  angels,  or  their  King  I 
Angels,  whofe  radfant  circles,  height  o'er  height. 
Order  o'er  order  rifing,  blaze  o'er  blaze, 
As  in  a  theatre,  furround  this  fcene. 
Intent  on  man,  and  anxious  for  his  fate  : 
x\ngels  look  out  for  thee ;  for  thee,  their  Lord, 
To  vindicate  his  glory  •,  and  for  thee. 
Creation  univerfal  calls  aloud. 
To  diflnvolve  the  moral  world,  and  give 
To  Nature's  renovation  brighter  cl^arms. 


fHE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2 19 


The  dissipated  Oxford  Student,  a  Di- 
alogue    BETWEEN    A    BROTHER,     AND     HIS    TWO 

Sisters. 

Lionel,  Lavinia,  and  Camilla. 

J  .      .    T  TTOW  do  you  do,  girls  ?  how  do  you  do  ? 

1    I   I  am  glad  to  fee  you,  upon  my  foul  I  am. 

\_Shnking  them  hard  by  the  hand. 

Lavinia.  I  thought,  brother,  you  had  been  at  Dr. 
Marchmont*s  ! 

Lion.  All  in  good  time,  my  dear  ;  I  ihall  certainly 
vifit  the  old  gentleman  before  long. 

Lav.     Gracious,  Lionel  ! — If  my  mother 

Lion.  My  dear  little  Lavinia,  [Chucking  her  under 
the  chin.']  I  have  a  mighty  notion  of  making  vlfits  at 
my  own  time  and  appointment,  inftead  of  my  mamma's. 

Lav.     O  Lionel  !    and  can  you  jufl:  now 

Lion.     Come,  come,  don't  let  us  wafte  our  precious 
moments  in  this  fulfome  moralizing.    If  I  had  not  luck- 
ily been  hard  by,  I  fhould  not  have  known  the  coaft 
was  clear.     Pray  where  are  the  old  folks  gone  tanti-^ 
vying  ? 

Camilla.     To  Cleves. 

Lion,  To  Cleves  !  What  a  happy  efcape !  I  was 
upon  the  point  of  going  thither  myfelf.  Camilla,  what 
is  the  matter  with  thee,  my  little  duck  ? 

Cam.  Nothing — I  am  only  thinking — Pray  when 
do  you  go  to  Oxford  ? 

Lion.  Poh,  Poh,  what  do  you  talk  of  Oxford  for  ? 
you  are  grown  quite  ftupid,  girl.  I  believe  you  have 
lived  too  long  with  that  old  maid  of  a  Margland.  Pray 
how  does  that  dear  creature  do  ?  I  am  afraid  fhe  will 
grow  melancholy  from  not  feeing  me  fo  long.  Is  fhe 
as  pretty  as  fhe  ufed  to  be  ?  I  have  fome  notion  of 
fending  her  a  fuitor. 

Lav.  O  brother,  is  it  poflible  you  can  have  fuch 
fpirits  ? 


22®         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Lto?u  O  hang  It ;  if  one  is  not  merry  when  oae 
can,  what  is  the  world  good  for  ?  Befides,  I  do  aflure 
you,  I  fretted  fo  confumedly  hard  at  lirft,  that  for  the 
life  of  me  I  can  fret  no  longer. 

Cam.     But  why  are  you  not  at  Dr.  Marchmont's  ? 

Lien.  Becaufe,  my  dear  foul,  you  can't  conceive  how 
nnich  pleafure  thofe  old  do£torr,  take  in  lecturing  a 
youngfter  who  is  in  any  difgrace. 

Caiih     Difgrace  ! 

Lcyu.  At  all  events,  I  befeech  you  to  be  a  little  care- 
ful -,  I  would  not  have  my  poor  mother  find  you  here 
for  tlit  world. 

/./:;/.  O,  as  to  thnr,  I  defy  her  to  dellre  the  meeting-^ 
i'eis  than  i  do.  But  come,  let's  talk  of  fomething  elfe. . 
How  go  on  the  claffics  ?  Is  my  old  friend,  Dr.  Ork- 1 
borne,  as  chatty  and  amuiing  as  ever  ? 

Cam.  My  dear  Lionel,  I  am  filled  with  apprehen-l 
iion  and  perplexity.  Why  fliould  my  mother  wifh  not. 
to  fee  you  ?  And  why-— and  how^  is  it  poflible  youl 
can  wilh  not  to  fee  her  ? 

Lion.     What,  don't  you  know  it  all  ? 

Cam.  I  only  know  that  fomething  is  wrong ;  but 
how,  what,  or  which  way,  I  have  not  heard. 

Lion.     Has  not  Lavinia  told  you,  then  ? 

Lav.  No  5  I  could  be  in  no  hafte  to  give  her  fo 
much  pain. 

Lion.  You  are  a  oojd  ^irl  enough.  But  how  came 
you  here,  Camilla  ?  and  what  is  the  realon  you  have 
not  feen  my  mother  yourfelf  ? 

Ca772.  Not  feen  her  I  I  have  been  with  her  this  half 
hour. 

Lion.  What !  and  in  all  that  time  did  fhe  not  tell 
you  ? 

Cam.     She  did  not  name  you. 

Lion.  Is  it  poffible  !  Well,  fhe's  a  noble  creature,  I 
muft  confefs.  I  wonder  how  fhe  could  ever  have  fuch 
a  fon.  And  I  am  ftill  lefs  like  my  father  than  I  am 
like  her.  I  believe  in  my  confcience  I  was  changed 
in  the  cradle.     Will  you  own  me,  young  ladies,  if  fome 


THE  COLtfMBlAN  ORATOR.         22  x 

vrllanous  attorney  or  excifeman  (hould  claim  me  by 
and  by  ? 

Cam.  Dear  Lionel,  do  explain  to  nic  what  has  hap- 
pened. You  talk  fo  wildly,  that  you  make  me  think 
it  important  and  trifling  twenty  times  in  a  mir.ute. 

Lioft.  O,  a  horrid  bufinefs  !  Lavinia  muft  tell  you. 
f'll  withdraw  till  fhe  has  done.  Don't  defpifb  me, 
Camilla.  I  am  confounded  forry,  I  afTire  you.  [Gc^ 
ing ;  wid  then  immediately  returfiing.']  Come,  upon 
the  whole,  I  had  better  tell  it  you  myfelf ;  for  Ihe'li 
make  fuch  a  difmal  ditty  of  it,  that  it  won't  be  over 
this  half  year.  The  fooner  we  have  done  with  it  the 
better.  It  will  only  put  you  out  of  fpirits.  Yoli 
muO:  know  I  was  in  rather  a  bad  fcrape  at  Oxford  latl 
year^-^ 

Cam*  Laft  year  !  and  you  never  told  us  of  it  before  ! 

Lion,  O,  'twas  about  fomething  you  would  not  un- 
derftand  ;  fo  I  Ihall  not  mention  particulars  now.  It 
is  enough  for  you  to  know,  that  two  or  three  of  us 

wanted  a  little  cafli !   Well,  fo in  Ihort,  I  font  a 

letter — fomewhat  of  a  threatening  fort — to  old  uncle 
Relvil !  and-— 

Canu     O  Lionel ! 

Lien.  O,  I  did  not  fign  it.  It  was  only  begging  a 
little  money,  which  he  can  afford  to  fpare  very  well ; 
and  juft  telling  him,  if  he  did  not  fend  it  tg  a  certain 
phce  which  I  mentioned,  he  would  have  his  brains 
blown  out. 

Cam.     How  horrible  I 

Lion.  Poh,  poll ;  he  had  only  to  fend  the  money, 
you  know,  and  then  his  brains  might  keep  their  place* 
Befides,  you  can't  fuppofe  there  was  gunpowder  in  the 
words  ;  though,  to  be  fure,  the  letter  was  charged  with 
a  few  vollies  of  oaths.  But,  would  you  believe  it  ! 
the  poor  old  gull  was  fool  enough  a<^ually  to  fend  the 
money  where  he  was  dire(Sled. 

Lav.  Hold,  hold,  Inonel  I  I  cannot  endure  to  hear 
you  fpeak  in  fuch  difgraceful  terms  of  that  worthy 
man.  How  could  you  treat  that  excellent  uncle  in 
T  a 


222        THE  COLUMBIAN  uivAiOR. 

iuch  a  cruel  manner  1  How  could  you  Hnd  a  heart  to 
fwe,ir  at  fo  meek,  fo  benevolent,  ib  indulgent 

Lion.  My  dear  little  chicken,  don't  be  fo  precife 
and  old  maidifli.  Don't  you  know  it's  a  relief  to  ^ 
man's  mind  to  iVear  a  hw  cutting  oaths  now  and  then 
when  he's  in  a  pailion  ?  when  all  the  time  he  would 
no  more  do  harm  to  the  people  he  fwears  at,  than  you 
Avould,  who  mince  out  all  your  words  as  if  you  were 
talking  treafbn,  and  thought  every  man  a  fpy  that  heard 
■you.  It  is  a  very  innocent  refrefhment  to  a  man's 
mind,  my  dear.  But  the  difficulty  is  you  know  no^ 
thing  of  the  world. 

Cam.  Fie,  brother  1  You  know  how  fickly  our  un- 
cle has  always  been,  and  how  eafily  he  might  be  alarmed. 

Liou.  Why,  yes,  Camilla  *,  I  really  think  it  was  a 
very  wicked  trick  •,  and  I  would  give  half  my  little  fin- 
ger that  I  had  not  done  it.  But  it's  over  now,  you 
know ;  fo  what  fignifies  making  the  worft  of  it  ? 

Cam.     And  did  he  not  difcover  you  ? 

I^ion.  No ;  I  gave  him  particular  orders,  in  my 
letter,  not  to  attempt  any  thing  of  that  fort ;  ail'm  ing 
himtherewere  fpies  about  him  to  watch  his  proceedings. 
The  good  old  fimpleton  took  it  all  for  gofpel.  So  there 
the  matter  ended.  However,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it, 
about  three  months  ago,  we  wanted  another  fum — 

Lav.     And  could  you  again 

Lion.  Why,  my  dear,  it  was  only  taking  a  little  ojf 
my  own  fortune  beforehand,  for  I  am  his  heir ;  fo  we 
ail  agreed  it  was  merely  robbing  myfelf ;  for  we  had 
feverai  confultatio^ns  about  it ;  and  one  of  ws  is  to  be 
a  lawyer. 

Cam.  But  you  give  me  fome  pleafure  here  ;  for  I 
had  never  heard  that  my  uncle  had  made  you  his  heir. 

Lion.  Neither  had  I  my  deary ;  but  I  take  it  for 
granted.  Befides,  our  little  lawyer  put  it  into  my  head.. 
Well,  we  wrote  again,  and  told  the  poor  old  foul,  for 
which  I  alTure  you  I  amdieartily  penitent,  that,  if  he  did 
not  fend  me  double  the  fum,  in  the  fame  manner,  without 
delay,  hia  houfe  was  to  be  fet  on  fire,  while  he  and  all 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  223 

his  family  were  in  bed  and  afleep.  Now  don't  make 
faces  nor  fliruggings ;  for  I  promife  you,  I  think  al- 
ready I  deferve  to  be  hung  for  giving  him  the  fright ; 
though  I  would  not  really  have  hurt  the  hair  of  his 
head  for  half  his  fortune.  But  who  could  have  guefl^ 
ed  that  the  old  codger  would  have  bitten  fo  readily  ? 
The  money,  however,  came  ;  and  we  thought  the  bu- 
finefs  all  fecure,  and  agreed  to  get  the  fame  fum  annu? 
ally. 

Cam.     Annually  I  O  horrible  ! 

Lion,  Yes,  my  darling.  You  have  no  conception 
how  convenient  it  would  have  been  for  our  extra  ex- 
penfes.  But,  unluckily,  uncle  grew  worfe,  and  went 
abroad  ;  and  then  confulted  with  fome  crab  of  a  friend> 
and  that  friend,  with  fome  demagogue  of  a  magistrate, 
and  fo  all  is  now  blown.  However,  we  had  managed 
it  fo  cleverly,  that  it  coft  them  nearly  three  months  to 
find  it  out ;  owing,  I  muft  confefs,  to  poor  urTcle's  cow- 
ardice, in  not  making  his  inquiries  before  the  money 
Avas  carried  off,  and  he  himfelf  beyond  the  fea.  The 
other  particulars  Lavinia  muft  give  you  -,  for  I  have 
talked  of  it  now  till  I  have  made  myfclf  quite  lick. 
Do  tell  me  fome  diverting  ftory  to  drive  it  a  little  out 
of  my  head.  But,  by  the  way,  pray  what  has  tarried 
the  old  folks  to  Clevcs  ?  Have  they  gone  to  tell  this 
fad  tale  to  uncle  Hugh,  fo  that  I  might  lofe  hio;i  too  ? 

Lav,  No ;  your  afflicted  parents  are  determined 
hot  to  name  it.  They  are  ftriving  that  nobody  elfe 
fhall  know  any  thing  of  the  matter,  except  Dr.  March,- 
mont. 

Lion.  Well,  they  are  good  fouls,  it  muft  be  acknowl- 
edged. I  wilh  I  deferved  them  better.  I  wifh  too  it 
was  not  fuch  plaguy  dull  bufinefs  to  be  good.  I  con- 
fefs, girls,  it  wounds  my  confcience  to  think  how  I 
have  affli^tsd  my  parents,  efpecially  my  poor  mother, 
who  is  not  fo  well  able  to  bear  it.  But  when  one  is 
at  Oxford,  or  in  London — your  merry  blades  there,  J 
can't  deny  it,  my  dear  iifters,  your  merry  blades  there 
5rs  but  fad  fellows.     Yet  there  b  fuch  fun^  fuch  fpirit. 


224         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

fuch  genuine  fport  among  them,  I  cannot,  for  my  Hfq, 
keep  out  of  the  way.  Befides,  you  have  no  concep- 
tion, young  ladies,  what  a  bye-word  you  foon  become 
among  them,  if  they  find  you  fiinching.  But  this  is 
little  to  the  purpofe  ;  for  you  know  nothing  of  life  yet, 
poor  things. 

Lav.  I  would  not  for  the  world  fay  any  thing  to 
pain  you,  my  dear  brother  ;  but  if  this  is  what  you 
call  life,  I  wifh  we  never  might  know  any  thing  of  it. 
I  wifh  more,  that  you  had  been  fo  happy  as  never  to 
have  known  it.  You  pity  our  ignorance,  we  pity  your 
folly.  How  flrangely  infatuated  you  are  !  But  yet  I 
will  hope,  that,  in  future,  your  firft  ftudy  will  be  to  re- 
fift  fuch  dangerous  examples,  and  to  fhun  fuch  unwor- 
thy friends.  Pray  refledt  one  moment  on  the  diftrefl- 
ing  fituation  of  your  dear  parents,  who  cannot  endure 
your  prefence,  through  the  poignancy  of  grief !  What 
labors  and  hardfhips  has  your  poor  father  encounter- 
ed, to  gain  wherewithal  to  fupport  you  at  the  Univer- 
fity  !  And  what  is  your  return  !  Such,  my  dear  broth- 
er, as  will  foon  bring  down  his  grey  hairs  with  forrow 
to  the  grave.  As  for  your  poor  mother,  it  is  quite  un- 
certain whether  any  of  us  ever  fee  her  again,  as  your 
much-injured  uncle  has  fent  for  her  over  fea  to  attend 
him  in  his  licknefs  ;  and  to-morrow  fhe  fits  out.  She 
has  left  it  in  folemn  charge  with  me,  to  deliver  you  a 
mefTage  from  her,  which,  if  you  have  any  fenfibility 
remaining,  will  cut  you  to  the  heart. 

Lion.  I  know  flie  can  have  faid  nothing  worfe  than 
I  expert,  or  than  I  merit.  Probe  me,  then,  Lavinia^ 
without  delay.  Keep  me  not  in  a  moment's  fufpenie, 
I  feel  a  load  of  guilt  upon  me,  and  begin  fincerely  to 
repent.  She  is  a£ling  towards  me  like  an  angel ;  and 
if  fhe  were  to  command  me  to  turn  hermit,  I  know  I 
ought  to  obey  her. 

Lav.  Well,  then,  my  mother  fays,  my  dear  Lionel, 
that  the  fraud  you  have  pracStifed - 

Lion,  The  fraud !  what  a  horrid  word  !  Why  k 
Was  a  mere  trick  !  a  joke  !  a  frolic  !  juft  to  make  an 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  225 

old  hunks  open  his  purfe-ftrings  to  his  natural  heir.  I 
am  aftonifhed  at  my  mother  !  I  really  don't  care  wheth- 
er I  hear  another  fyllable. 

Lav.  Well,  then,  my  dear  Lionel,  I  will  wait  till 
you  are  calmer  :  my  mother,  I  am  fure,  did  not  mean 
to  irritate,  but  to  convince. 

Lion,  [^Striding  about  the  room.'}  My  mother  makes 
no  allowances.  She  has  no  faults  herfelf,  and  for  that 
reafon  fhe  thinks  nobody  elfe  fliould  have  any.  Be- 
fides,  how  fhould  fhe  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  young 
man  ?  and  to  want  a  little  cafh,  and  not  to  know  how 
to  get  it } 

Lav.  But  I  am  fure,  if  you  wanted  it  for  any  prop- 
er purpofe,  my  father  would  have  denied  himfelf  every 
thing,  in  order  to  fupply  you. 

Lion.  Yes,  yes ;  but  fuppofe  I  want  it  for  a  purpofe 
that  is  not  proper,  how  am  I  to  get  it  then  ? 

Cam.  Why,  then,  my  dear  Lionel,  furely  you  muft 
be  fenlible  you  ought  to  go  without  it. 

Lion.  Aye,  that's  as  you  girls  fay,  who  know  noth- 
ing of  the  matter.  If  a  young  man,  when  he  goes  in- 
to the  world,  were  to  make  fuch  a  fpeech  as  that,  he 
would  be  pointed  at.  Befides,  whom  mufl  he  live 
with  ?  You  don't  fuppofe  he  is  to  fhut  himfelf  up,  with 
a  it\v^  mufly  books,  fleeping  over  the  fire,  under  prcr 
tence  of  ftudy,  all  day  long,  do  you  ?  like  young  Mel- 
mond,  who  knows  no  more  of  the  world,  than  either 
of  you  ? 

Cam.  Indeed,  he  feems  to  me  an  amiable  and  mod- 
eft  young  man,  though  very  romantic. 

Lion.  O,  I  dare  fay  he  does  !  I  could  have  laid  any 
wager  of  that.  He's  juft  a  girl's  man,  juft  the  very 
thing,  all  fentiment,  and  poetry,  and  heroics.  But  we, 
my  little  dear,  we  lads  of  fpirit,  hold  all  that  amazingly 
cheap.  I  alTure  you,  I  would  as  foon  be  feen  trying  on 
a  lady's  cap  at  a  glafs,  as  poring  over  a  crazy  old  au- 
thor. I  warrant  you  think,  becaufe  one  is  at  the  Uni- 
verfitv,  one  mufl;  be  a  book- worm  ] 


226         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Lav.  Why,  what  elfe  do  you  go  there  for  but  to 
fludy  ? 

Lion,     Every  thing  elfe  In  the  world,  my  dear. 

Cam.  But  are  there  not  fometimes  young  men  who 
are  fcholars,  without  being  book-worms  ?  Is  not  Edgar 
Mandlebert  fuch  a  one  ? 

Lion.  O  yes,  yes;  an  odd  thing  of  that  fort  happens 
now  and  then.  Mandlebert  has  fpirit  enough  to  carry 
it  off  pretty  well,  without  being  ridiculous  j  though 
he  is  as  deep,  for  his  time,  as  e'er  an  old  fellow  of  a 
college.  But  then  this  is  no  rule  for  others.  You 
inuft  not  expecl  an  Edgar  Mandlebert  at  every  turn, 
my  dear  innocent  creatures. 

Lav.  But  Edgar  has  had  an  extraordinary  educa- 
tion, as  well  as  pofleffing  extraordinary  talents  and 
goodnefs ;  you  too,  my  dear  Lionel,  to  fulfil  what  may 
be  expelled  from  you,  fliould  look  back  to  your  fath- 
er, who  was  brought  up  at  the  fame  univerfity,  and  is 
now  conlidered  as  one  of  the  fir  ft  men  it  has  produced. 
While  he  was  refpected  by  the  learned  for  his  applica=- 
tion,  he  was  loved  even  by  the  indolent  for  his  can- 
dour and  kindnefs  of  heart.  And  though  his  income, 
as  you  know,  was  very  fmall,  he  never  ran  in  debt ; 
and  by  an  exadl  but  open  economy,  efcaped  all  impu- 
tation of  meannefs. 

Lion.  Yes ;  but  all  this  is  nothing  to  the  purpofc. 
My  father  is  no  more  like  other  men  than  if  he  had 
been  born  in  another  planet  *,  and  my  attempting  to 
refemble  him  would  be  as  great  a  joke,  as  if  you  were 
to  drefs  up  in  Indiana's  flowers  and  feathers,  and  ex- 
pert people  to  call  you  a  beauty.  I  was  born  a  bit  of 
SL  buck ;  and  have  no  manner  of  natural  taf\e  for  fludy, 
and  poring,  and  expounding,  and  black-letter  work.  I 
am  a  light,  airy  fpark,  at  your  fervice,  ladies ;  not 
quite  fo  wife  as  I  am  merry.  I  am  one  of  your  ec- 
centric geniufes ;  but  let  that  pafs.  My  father,  you 
know,  is  firm  as  a  rock.  He  minds  neither  wind  nor 
weather,  nor  fleerer  nor  fneerer,  nor  joker  nor  jeerer; 
but  his  firmnefs  he  has  kept  all  to  himfelf ;  not  a  whit 


THE  COLUISIBIAN  ORATOR,  227 

of  it  do  I  inherit.  Every  wind  that  blows  veers  me 
about,  and  gives  me  a  new  direction.  But  with  all  my 
father's  firmnefs  and  knowledge,  I  very  much  doubt 
whether  he  knows  any  thing  of  real  life.  That  is  the 
main  thing,  my  dear  hearts.  But,  come,  Lavinia,  fin- 
ifh  your  meflage. 

Lav,  My  mother  fays,  the  fraud  you  have  prailif^ 
ed,  whether  from  wanton  folly  to  give  pain,  or  from 
rapacious  difcontent  to  get  money,  fhe  will  leave  with- 
out comment  *,  fatisfied  that  if  you  have  any  feeling  at 
all,  its  efFe<Sts  muft  bring  remorfe ;  fince  it  has  danger- 
cully  increafed  the  infirmities  of  your  uncle,  driven 
him  to  a  foreign  land,  and  forced  your  mother  to  for* 
fake  her  home  and  family  in  his  purfuit,  unlefs  flie  were 
willing  to  fee  you  punifhed  by  the  entire  difinheritancc, 
with  which  you  ^re  threatened.     But — 

Lio?t.  O,  no  more  !  no  more  !  I  am  ready  to  flioot 
myfelf  already !  My  dear,  excellent  mother,  what  do 
I  not  owe  you !  I  had  never  feen,  never  thought  of 
the  buiinefs  in  this  folemn  way  before.  I  meant  no- 
thing at  firft  but  a  filly  joke  ;  and  all  this  mifchief  has 
followed  unaccountably.  I  afTure  you,  I  had  no  no- 
tion at  the  beginning  he  would  have  minded  the  letter; 
and  afterwards.  Jack  Whifton  perfuaded  me  that  the 
money  was  as  good  as  my  own,  and  that  it  was  no- 
thing but  a  little  cribbing  from  rayfelf.  I  will  never 
truCt  him  again  ;  I  fee  the  whole  now  in  its  true  and 
atrocious  colours.  I  will  devote  all  the  means  in  my 
power  to  make  amends  to  my  dear  incomparable  mo- 
ther.    But  proceed,  Lavinia. 

Lav.  But  lince  you  are  permitted,  faid  my  mother, 
to  return  home,  by  the  forgiving  temper  of  your  father, 
who  is  hirafelf,  during  the  vacation,  to  be  your  tutor, 
after  he  is  fufiiciently  compofed  to  admit  you  into  his 
prefence,  you  can  repay  his  goodnefs  only  by  the  mofl 
intenfe  application  to  thofe  ftudies  which  you  have 
hitherto  negle6led,  and  of  which  your  ncgle^l  has  been 
the  caufe  of  your  errors.  She  charges  you  alfo  to  afk 
yourfcl^  upon  what  pretex.t  you  can  juftify  the  wafb- 


228         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

ing  of  his  valuable  time,  however  little  you  may  re- 
gard your  own.     Finally — 

Lion.  I  never  wafted  his  time  !  I  never  deiired  to 
have  any  inftru<Slion  in  the  vacations.  ' Tis  the  moft: 
deuced  thing  in  life  to  be  {l:udying  fo  inceflantly.  The 
wafte  of  time  is  all  his  own  affair,  his  own  choice,  not 
mine.  Go  on,  however,  nnd  open  the  whole  of  the 
budget. 

Lav,  Finally,  (lie  adjures  you  to  coniider,  that  if 
you  ftill  perfevere  to  confume  your  time  in  wilful  neg- 
ligence, to  bury  all  thought  in  idle  gaiety,  and  to  a6l 
without  either  reflection  or  principle,  the  career  of 
faults  which  begins  but  in  unthinking  folly,  will  termi- 
nate in  fliame,  in  guilt,  and  in  ruin  !  And  though  fuch 
a  declenfion  of  all  good,  muft  involve  your  family  in 
your  affli(Stion,  your  difgrace  will  ultimately  fall  but 
where  it  ought ;  lince  your  own  want  of  perfonal  fen- 
fibility  will  neither  harden  nor  blind  any  human  being 
befide  yourfelf.     This  is  all. 

Lion.  And  enough  too.  I  am  a  very  wretch  !  I  be- 
lieve that,  though  I  am  fure  I  can't  tell  how  I  came 
fo ;  for  I  never  intend  any  harm,  never  think,  never 
dream  of  hurting  any  mortal  !  But  as  to  ftudy,  I  muft 
own  to  you,  I  hate  it  moft  deucedly.  Any  thing  elfe ; 
if  my  mother  had  but  exacfted  any  thing  elfe,  with  what 
joy  I  would  have  fhown  my  obedience  !  If  fhe  had  or- 
dered me  to  be  horfe-ponded,  I  do  proteft  to  you,  I 
would  not  have  demurred. 

Cam.     How  you  always  run  into  the  ridiculous  ! 

Lion.  I  was  never  fo  ferious  in  ray  life ;  not  that 
I  fhould  like  to  be  horfe-ponded  in  the  leaft,  though 
I  would  fubmit  to  it  by  way  of  punlftiment,  and  out  of 
duty:  but  then,  when  it  was  done,  it  would  be  over. 
Now  the  deuce  of  ftudy  is,  there  is  no  end  to  it !  And 
it  does  fo  httle  for  one  !  one  can  go  through  life  fo 
well  without  it !  there  is  but  here  and.  there  an  old 
codger  who  aiks  one  a  queftion  that  can  bring  it  into 
any  play.  And  then,  a  turn  upon  one's  heel,  or  look- 
ing at  one*s  watch,  or  wondering  at  one's  fhort  mem= 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  229 

cry,  or  happening  to  forget  juft  that  one  fingle  paflage, 
carries  off  the  whole  in  two  minutes,  as  completely  as 
if  one  had  been  working  one's  whole  life  to  get  ready 
for  the  afTault.  And  pray  now  tell  me,  how  can  it  be 
worth  one's  belt  days,  one's  gayeft  hours,  the  very 
flower  of  one's  life,  all  to  be  facrificed  to  plodding  over 
mully  grammars  and  lexicons,  merely  to  cut  a  figure 
jufl:  for  about  two  minutes,  once  or  twice  in  a  year  ? 

Cam.  Indeed,  Lionel,  you  appear  to  me  a  flriking 
example  of  what  a  hard  thing  it  is  to  learn  to  do  well, 
after  one  has  been  accuftomed  to  do  evil.  How  volatile'! 
how  totally  void  of  all  (lability  !  One  minute  you  ex- 
hibit appearances  of  repentance  and  reformation,  and 
the  next  minute,  all  fair  profpedls  vanifh.  How  I  la- 
ment that  you  were  fo  early  expofed  to  a  vicious  world, 
before  you  had  gained  fafHcient  flrength  of  mind  to 
withftand  bad  examples  ! 

Lion,  Forbear,  Camilla.  You  hurt  me  too  much. 
You  excite  thofe  fevere  twinges  of  remorfe,  which,  I 
nm  obliged  to  own,  I  have  never  been  wholly  free  from, 
iince  I  joined  my  merry  companions,  and  began  to  learn 
the  >yorld.  Notwithftanding  my  gaiety,  and  my  appar- 
ent contentment,  I  confefs  there  is  fomething  within, 
which  conftantlyadmonifhesmeof  my  errors,  and  makes 
me  feel  unhappy  :  fo  that,  if  it  were  not  for  fajljion's 
fake,  I  can  truly  fay,  I  could  wifh  I  were  in  your  re- 
clufe  fituation ;  here  to  remain,  in  my  once  pleafartt 
-abode,  and  never  more  mingle  with  the  world. 

Lav,  Dear  brother,  I  cannot  leave  you,  without 
once  more  calling  your  attention  to  your  parents,  your 
family,  and  your  friends.  Think  of  their  prefent  fitu- 
ation. If  you  have  no  regard  for  your  own  charadler, 
your  prefent,  or  future  happinefs,  I  entreat  you  to  have 
fome  pity  for  them.  Let  not  the  tyrant  Fafliion  bring 
you  into  abje^l  flavery.  Pardon  me  when  I  tell  you, 
your  pretended  friends  are  your  woril  enemies.  They 
have  led  you  into  a  path  which  will  carry  you  directly 
to  inevitable  ruin,  unlels  you  immediately  forfake  it. 
That  knowledge  of  the  world,  of  which  you  fo  vaijiJ^ 


-30"        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

boaft,  is  infinitely  worfe  than  the  ignorance  which  you 
io  much  defpife.  Believe  me,  my  dear  brother,  it  is  a 
knowledge,  which,  by  your  own  confeffion,  never  has 
produced  you  any  happinefs,  nor  will  it  ever  j  but  will 
guide  you  to  wretchednefs  and  mifery. 

Lhfi.  My  dear  fifters,  I  am  convinced.  Your  words 
have  pierced  my  very  foul.  I  am  now  wretched,  and 
I  deferve  to  be  fo.  I  am  determined  from  this  moment 
to  begin  my  reformation,  and,  with  the  uffiftance  of 
Heaven,  to  complete  it.  Never  more  will  I  fee  my 
vile  companions,  who  have  enticed  me  to  go  fuch 
lengths  in  wickednefs.  What  do  I  not  owe  to  my 
amiable  fifters  for  their  friendly  and  feafonable  advice ! 
I  will  go  diredly  to  my  father,  and,  like  the  prodigal 
fon,  fall  on  my  knees  before  him,  beg  his  forgivenefs, 
And  put  myfelf  entirely  under  his  direction  and  inftruc- 
tion ;  and,  fo  long  as  I  live, I  never  will  offend  him  again. 

JLav.  May  Heaven  affift  you  in  keeping  your  refo- 
lutions ! 


Extract  from  a  Speech  in  Congress, 
April,  1796,  on  the  Subject  of  the  Treaty 
WITH  Great-Britain. 

IF  any,  again  ft  all  thefe  proofs  which  have  been 
offered,  fhould  maintain  that  the  peace  with  the 
Indians  will  be  ftable  without  the  Weftern  Pofts,  to 
them  I  will  urge  another  reply.  From  arguments  cal- 
culated to  produce  conviiftion,  I  will  appeal  dire(Sdy  to 
the  hearts  of  thofe  who  hear  me,  and  alk  whether  it  is 
not  already  planted  there  ?  I  refort  efpecially  to  the 
convidions  of  the  Weftern  gentlemen,  whether,  fup- 
pofuig  no  Pofts  and  no  Treaty,  the  iettlers  will  remain 
in  fecurity  ?  Can  they  ti*ke  it  upon  them  to  fay,  that 
an  Indian  peace,  under  thefe  ciixuniftances,  "will  prove 
firm  ?  No,  Sir,  it  will  net  be  peace,  but  a  fvvord ;  it 
will  be  no  better  than  a  lure  to  drav/  vi^Ttim?  within  the 
reach  of  the  tomahawk. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR,  231 

On  this  theme,  my  emotions  are  unutterable.  If  1 
could  find  words  for  them,  if  rny  powers  bore  any  pro- 
portion to  my  zeal,  I  would  fwell  my  voice  to  fuch  a 
note  of  remonftrance,  it  (liould  reach  every  log-houfe 
beyond  the  mountains.  I  would  fliy  to  the  inhabitant?, 
Wake  from  your  falfe  fecurity.  Your  cruel  dangers, 
your  more  cruel  apprehcnilons  are  foon  to  be  renewed. 
The  wounds,  yet  unhealed,  are  to  be  torn  open  again. 
In  the  day  time,  your  path  through  the  woods  will  be 
ambulhed.  The  darknefs  of  midnight  will  glitter  with 
the  blaze  of  your  dwellings.  You  are  a  fathv:r ;  thci 
blood  of  your  fons  fhail  fatten  your  cnnineld.  You 
are  a  mother ;  the  war-whoop  fhali  wake  the  ileep  of 
the  cradle. 

On  this  fubje(ft  you  need  not  fufpect  any  deception 
on  your  feelings.  It  is  a  fpe£tacle  of  horror  which  can- 
not be  overdrawn.  If  you  have  nature  in  your  hearts, 
they  will  fpeak  a  language,  compared  with  which,  all  I 
have  faid  or  can  fay,  will  be  poor  and  frigid.  Will  it 
be  whifpered  that  the  treaty  has  made  me  a  new  cham- 
pion for  the  protection  of  the  frontiers  ?  It  is  known 
that  my  voice  as  well  as  vote  have  been  uniformly  giv- 
en in  conformity  with  the  ideas  I  have  exprefled. 
Protedlion  is  the  right  of  the  frontiers ;  it  is  our  duty 
to  give  it. 

Who  will  accufe  me  of  wandering  out  of  the  fubjedtB 
Who  will  fay  that  I  exaggerate  the  tendencies  of  our 
meafures  ?  Will  any  one  anfwer  by  a  fneer,  that  all 
this  is  idle  preaching  ?  Will  any  one  deny  that  we  are 
bound,  and  I  would  hope  to  good  purpofe,  by  the  moffc 
folemn  fan<SVions  of  duty  for  the  vote  we  give  ?  Are 
defpots  alone  to  be  reproached  for  unfeeling  indiffer- 
ence to  the  tears  and  blood  of  their  fubjecfts  ?  Are  re- 
publicans unrefponfible  ?  Have  the  principles  on  which 
you  ground  the  reproach  upon  cabinets  and  kings  no 
pradlical  influence,  no  binding  force  ?  Are  they  merely 
themes  of  idle  declamation,  introduced  to  decorate  the 
morality  of  a  newfpaper  elTay,  or  to  furnifh  pretty  top- 
ics of  harangue  from  the  windows  of  that  State-houfe  ?: 


232         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

I  triifl  it  is  neither  too  prefumptuous  Eor  too  late  fa 
afk,  Can  yoii  put  the  deareft  intereft  of  fociety  at  rifks, 
without  guilt,  and  without  remoi'fe  ? 

By  rejecting  the  pofts,  we  light  the  favage  fires  •,  we 
fcind  the  victims.  This  day  we  undertake  to  render 
::ccount  to  the  widows  and  orphans  whom  our  dcciiiort 
t^ill  make,  to  tlie  wretches  that  will  be  roafied  at  the 
ilake,  to  cur  country,  and  I  do  not  deem  it  too  ferious 
to  Uj,  to  conicience,  and  to  God.  We  are  anfwera- 
bkj  and  if  duty  be  any  thing  more  than  a  word  of 
importure  ^  if  ccnfcience  be  not  a  bugbear,  we  are  pre- 
paring lo  make  ourfekes  as  wretched  as  our  country, 

'iiicri:  is  iK)  miilake  in  this  cafe  ',  there  can  be  none. 
Experience  has  already  been  the  prophet  of  events,  and 
the  erics  of  our  future  vi£lims  have  already  reached  usa 
Tlie  weftern  inhabitants  are  not  a  filent  and  uncom- 
plaining facrifice.  The  voice  of  humanity  ifliies  from 
the  fliade  of  the  wildernefs.  It  exclaims,  that  while- 
one  hand  is  held  up  to  reject  this  treaty,  the  other 
grafps  a.  tomahawk.  It  fummons  our  imagination  to 
the  icenes  that  will  open.  It  is  no  great  elTort  of  the 
imagination  to  conceive  that  events  fo  near  are  already^ 
begun.  I  can  fancy  that  I  lill:en  to  the  yells  of  favage 
vengeance  and  the  fhrieks  of  torture.  Already  they 
feem  to  figli  in  the  weftern  wind  j  already  they  min* 
gjlc  with  everv  echo  from  the  mountain-s. 

Let  me  cheer  the  nnnd,  weary,  no  doubt,  and  ready 
to  defpond  on  this  profoerr,  by  prefenting  another, 
which  is  yet  in  our  power  to  realize.  Is  it  poffiblefor 
a  real  American  to  look  at  the  profperity  of  this  coun- 
try without  fome  deiire  for  its  continuance,  without 
feme  refpe^l  for  the  meafures,  which,  many  will  fay, 
produced,  and  all  Vi'ill  cciifefs,  Iiave  preferved  it  ?  Vv''ill 
lie  not  feel  fome  dread  that  a  change  of  fyftem  will  re- 
verie the  icene  ?  The  well-grounded  fears  of  our  citi- 
zens, in  I794>  v/ere  removed  by  the  treaty,  but  are  not 
forgotten.  Then  they  deemed  war  nearly  inevitable  i 
and  would  not  this  adjuftment  have  been  conlidered  at; 
that  day  as  a  happy  efcape  from  'ih.Q  cs^lamity  ? 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  23^ 

The  great  Intereft  and  the  general  defire  of  our  peo- 
ple was  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  neutrality.  Th'u^ 
inftrutnent,  however  rairreprefented,  affords  America 
that  ineftimable  fecurity.  The  caufes  of  our  difputes 
are  either  cut  up  by  the  roots,  or  referred  to  a  new 
negociation,  after  the  end  of  the  European  war.  This 
was  gaining  every  thing,  becaufe  it  confirmed  our  neu- 
trality, by  which  our  citizens  are  gaining  every  thing. 
This  alone  would  juftify  the  engagements  of  the  gov- 
ernment. For,  when  the  fiery  vapours  of  the  war  low- 
ered in  the  fkirts  of  our  horizon,  all  oicr  v/ilhes  were 
concentered  in  this  one,  that  we  might  efcape  the  dei- 
olation  of  the  flarm.  This  treaty,  like  a  rainbow  0:1 
the  edge  of  the  cloud,  marked  to  our  eyes  the  fpacc 
where  it  was  raging,  and  afforded  at  the  fame  time  the 
fure  progaoftic  of  fair  weather.  If  we  reject  it,  the  vi- 
vid colours  will  grow  pale  -,  it  will  be  a  baleful  meteor 
portending  tempeft  and  war. 

Let  us  not  hefitate  then  to  agree  to  the  appropriation 
to  carry  it  into  faithful  execution.  Thus. we  (hall  lave 
the  faith  of  our  nation,  fecure  its  peace,  and  difFafe  the 
fpirit  of  confidence  and  enterprife  that  will  augment  its 
profperity.  The  progrefs  of  wealth  and  improvement 
is  wonderful,  and,  fome  will  tlxink,  too  rapid.  The 
field  for  exertion  is  fruitful  and  vaft ;  and  if  peace  and 
good  government  fhould  be  preferved,  the  acquiiitions 
of  our  citizens  are  not  fo  pleaiing  as  the  proofs  of  their 
induflry,  as  the  inftruments  of  their  future  fuccefs.  The 
rewards  of  exertion  go  to  augment  its  power.  Profit 
is  every  hour  becoming  capital.  The  vaft  crop  of  our 
neutrality  is  all  feed  wheat,  and  is  fown  again,  to  fwell, 
almoft  beyond  calculation,  the  future  harveft  of  prof- 
perity. And  in  this  progrefs,  what  feems  to  be  fiction 
is  found  to  fall  fliort  of  experience. 


H  2 


234         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOIt. 


Extract  from  an  Oration,  pronounced 
AT  Worcester,  (Mass.)  July  4,  1796;  by  Fran- 
cis Blake,  Esq^ 

N  viewing  the  caiiies  which  led  to  the  event  of  this 
joyons  anniver/iiry  j  in  tracing  the  effects  which 
have  refuhed  to  America ;  in  fearching  for  the  prin- 
ciples wliich  impelled  to  the  conteft  5  in  recalHng  the 
feelings  which, fupported  us  in  the  ftruggle,  it  cannot 
fail  to  occur  to  us  that  the  caufes  have  not  been  con- 
fined to  the  limits  of  our  continent;  that  the  effe£l:s 
have  extended  far  beyond  the  boundaries  of  our  nation; 
lirat  the  glorious  example,  with  eledrical  rapidity,  has 
l^afhed  acrofs  the  Atlantic-;  that,  guided  by  the  fame 
principles,  condu^led  by  the  fame  feelings,  the  people, 
v,dio  fo  gallantly  fought  and  bled  for  the  fecurity  of 
our  lix'es  and  our  liberties,  are  now  fighting  and  bleed- 
ing in  defence  of  their  own. 

On  this  day,  therefore,  religioufly  devoted  to  the 
confecration  of  our  independence,  it  becomes  us^  as  the 
votaries  of  freedom,  as  friends  to  the  rights  of  man,  and 
bound  to  fupport  them  whenever  invaded,  to  turn  our 
attention,  with  a  grateful  enthufiafm,  to  the  fcenes  of 
their  fufferings,  their  revolt,  and  their  victories.  While 
exulting  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  peace  and  tranquilli- 
ty, {hall  not  a  tear  for  the  unexampled  diftreiTes  of  this 
magnanimous  nation,  check,  for  a  moment,  the  emo- 
tions of  our  joy  .? 

They  have  fworn  that  they  will  live  FREE  or  DIE ! 
They  have  folemnly  fworn,  that  the  fword,  which  has 
been  drawn  in  defence  of  their  country,  (hall  never  be 
returned  to  its  fcabbard,  till  it  has  fecured  to  them  vic- 
tory and  freedom.  Let  us  then  breathe  forth  a  fervent 
ejaculation  to  Heaven,  that  their  vows  may  be  remem- 
bered ;  that  the  caufe  of  our  former  allies  may  not  be 
deferted,  till  they  have  fcourged  thek-  mvaders ;  till 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  i^S 

they  have  driven  them  back  in  confufion  to  the  regions 
of  terror,  from  whence  they  emerged. 

"While  we  remember  with  horror  the  continued  ef- 
fufion  of  blood,  which  darkened  the  morning  of  their 
revolution,  let  us  not  forget  that  their  vengeance  was 
roufed  by  the  champions  of  defpotifm,  whofe  lives  have 
fince  juftly  atoned  for  the  crimes  they  committed. 
While  we  lament  the  fanguinary  fcenes,  which  cloud- 
ed its  progrefs,  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  they  arofe 
from  the  bloody  manifeflo  of  a  band  of  tyrants,  com- 
bined for  the  hellidi  purpofe  of  again  rivetting  the 
chains  they  had  broken. 

The  league  of  Pilnitz,  like  the  league  of  Satan  and 
his  angels,  revolting  againft  the  Majefty  of  heaven, 
was  profeiTedly  fabricated,  to  arreft  forever  the  pro- 
grefs of  freedom ;  to  ufurp  the  dominion  of  France, 
and  divide  the  fpoil  among  this  band  of  royal  plunder- 
ers. Have  we  not  heard  that  the  noble,  the  generous, 
the  grateful  monarch  of  the  forefb,  that  fawned  at  the 
feet  of  Androcles,  when  remembering  his  former  friend- 
Ihip,  will  ever  turn  with  fury  on  his  purfuers  j  and 
when  robbed  of  his  whelps,  refts  not  till  his  fangs  are 
crimfoned  in  the  blood  of  the  aggrelTor  ? 

Shall  then  the  fervour  of  our  friendfliip  be  abated, 
by  remembering  the  tranlitory  frenzy  of  a  people  dif. 
trailed  with  the  enthufiafm  of  freedom,  and  irritated 
to  madnefs  by  the  dreadful  profpedl  of  lofing  what  they 
had  enjoyed  but  for  a  moment  ?  Let  it  never  be  faid 
of  us,  as  of  Rome  and  of  Athens,  that  ingratitude  is 
the  common  vice  of  republics.  Was  it  to  the  crowned 
monarch,  named  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  or  to  the  people 
of  France,  that  we  were  indebted,  for  the  blood  and 
treafure  that  were  fo  profufely  lavifhed  in  our  caufe  ? 
Shall  then  their  fervices  be  forgotten,  in  the  remem- 
brance of  their  momentary  excefTes  ?  Or  fhall  we  re- 
fufe  our  mod  cordial  concurrence  in  the  feelings  which 
impel  them  to  the  prefent  conteft  with  the  ruffian  p<5- 
tentatis  of  Europe  ? 


236^         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Can  we  doubt,  for  a  moment,  which  is  the  caufe  we 
are  bound  to  fupport  with  our  fan£lion,  when  we  be- 
hold the  winds  and  the  Teas,  thofe  dreadful  minifters 
of  Heaven's  vengeance,  commiflioned  to  advance  their 
progrefs,  and  deluge  their  enemies  ?  When  we  behold  ^ 
Ariel,  with  his  attendant  fpirits,  gently  hovering  over 
their  navies,  and  wafting  them  to  vi£lory  on  the  bofom 
of  the  ocean  ;  while  Neptune  and  Boreas  have  combin- 
ed againft  the  league  of  their  opprefTors,  to  overwhelm 
in  the  deep  thefe  deluded  followers  of  Pharaoh  !  Have 
we  not  {etn  them  fed,  as  with  manna  from  heaven  ?  the 
waters  divided,  and  the  wails  of  Jericho  falling  before 
them,  while  the  fair  profpetSt  of  liberty  has  led  them  In 
triumph  through  the  wildernefs,  as  a  cloud  by  day,  and 
a  pillar  of  fire  by  night ! 

AMERICANS  !  Let  us  join  in  a  fervent  fupplica- 
tion,  that  the  facred  charters  of  humanity,  which  we 
have  once  fcaled  with  our  blood,  may  be  forever  pre- 
ferved  from  the  deadly  grafp  of  tyrants. 

FRENCHMEN  !  Be  firm  •,  be  undaunted  In  the 
fi:ruggle  you  have  thus  miraculoully  fupported.  Evince 
to  the  world,  now  gazing  with  admiration  at  your  ex- 
ploits in  the  field  of  battle,  that  you  have  virtue  equal 
to  your  courage  ',  that  you  are  friends  to  the  friends  of 
humanity ;  that  your  arms  are  nerved  only  againft  the 
enemies  of  man.  Let  not  the  facred  name  of  LIBER- 
TY be  polluted  by  the  frenzy  of  licentious  paflions ; 
but  may  your  prefent  glorious  conftltutlon,  while  it 
protects  your  freedom  from  the  unhallowed  ravages  of 
tyranny,  remain  an  unfhaken  bulwark  againft  the  de- 
ftru<Slive  fury  of  h£t\on. 

TYRANTS !  Turn  from  the  impious  work  of  blood 
in  which  your  hands  are  imbrued,  and  tremble  at  the 
defperatlon  of  your  revolting  fubje£ls  !  Repent  in  fack- 
cloth  and  afhes.  For  behold,  ye,  who  have  been  ex- 
alted up  to  heaven,  fhall,  ere  long,  be  caft  down  to  hell ! 
The  final  period  of  your  crimes  is  rapidly  approaching. 
The  grand  POLITICAL  MILLENNIUM  is  at  hand  ; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  23? 

when  tyranny  fliall  be  burled  In  ruins ;  when  all  na- 
tions fhall  be  united  in  ONE  MIGHTY  REPUBLIC ! 
when  the  four  angels,  that  ftand  on  the  four  corners 
of  the  globe,  fliall,  with  one  accord,  lift  up  their  voices 
to  heaven ;  proclaiming  PEACE  ON  EARTH,  AND 
GOOD  WILL  TO  ALL  MEN. 


General  Description  of  America. 

Extract   from  a  Poem  spoken  at   Dartmouth 
College,  ON  Commencement  Day,  1795. 

FROM  Patagonia's  fnow  inverted  wilds, 
To  Darien,  where  conflant  verdure  fmiles. 
The  Andes  meet  the  morning's  earliefl  ray. 
Overlook  the  clouds  and  check  the  flood  of  Day. 
In  copious  torrents  from  their  eaftern  fide, 
Flow  the  vaft  ftreams  of  Amazonia's  tide, 
Roll  on  majeftic  through  her  boundlefs  plain. 
And  fwell  the  furface  of  the  neighb'ring  main. 
Nor  Plata  lefs  a  broad,  deep  channel  fills ; 
Danube  and  Walga  by  his  fide  were  rills. 
But  leave,  my  mufe,  this  wide-extended  clime. 
By  nature  fi:amp'd  with  all  flie  owns  fublime. 
Here  flie  has  wrought  upon  her  largefl:  plan, 
But  mourns  in  foiitnde  the  wrongs  of  man. 
Here  Guatemozin  writli'd  In  flames  of  fire. 
And  flaughter'd  millions  round  their  prince  expire. 
Rife,  fleeping  vengeance  !  vindicate  their  caufe ; 
And  thou,  flern  juflice,  execute  thy  laws  : 
Ye  Andes,  ftrike  Hefperlan  fraud  with  dread, 
Burfl  thy  volcanoes  on  the  guilty  head  ! 

Where  Cancer's  fun  pours  down  his  ardent  blaze. 
Draws  the  Monfoons,  and  lengthens  out  his  days, 
The  fpacious  gulph  of  Mexic'  rolls  his  tide. 
And  thronging  fleets  of  various  nations  ride. 
The  fertile  ifles  their  rich  luxuriance  pour. 
And  weflern  dainties  crown  the  eaftern  {hore> 


238         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

But  weep,  humanity,  the  black  difgrace. 
And  fpread  thy  blufhes  o'er  oppreffion's  face  f 
Ye  fons  of  mirth,  your  bowls,  your  richeft  food^ 
Is  mingled  with  fraternal  tears  and  blood. 
Still  groans  the  flave  beneath  his  mailer's  rod. 
But  nature,  wrong'd,  appeals  to  nature's  GOD. 
The  fun  frowns  angry  at  th'  inhuman  fight ; 
The  ftars,  offended,  redden  in  the  night : 
In  weftern  Ikies,  drear  horror  gathers  round. 
And  waking  vengeance  murmurs  under  ground ; 
O'er  all  the  gulph  the  dark'ning  vapours  rife. 
And  the  black  clouds  fliil  awful  round  the  fliies. 
From  heaven  to  earth  fwift  thunder-bolts  are  hurl'd. 
And  ftorm's  dread  demon  fliakes  th'  aftonifli'd  world. 
The  rich  plantation  lies  a  barren  wafte. 
And  all  the  works  of  flavery  are  defac'd. 
Ye  tyrants,  own  the  devaflation  juft ; 
'Tis  for  your  wrongs  the  fertile  earth  is  curs'd. 

Columbia's  States  unfold  their  milder  fcenes. 
And  freedom's  realms  afford  more  pleafing  themes. 
From  Georgia's  plains,  to  Hudfon's  higheft  fource. 
The  northern  Andes  range  their  varied  courfe : 
Rank  above  rank,  they  fwell  their  growing  fize. 
Rear  their  blue  arches,  and  invade  the  fkies. 
Here  fpreads  a  foreft  ;  there  a  city  fliines  ; 
Here  fwell  the  hills,  and  there  a  vale  declines. 
Here,  through  the  meads,  meand'ring  rivers  run ; 
There  placid  lakes  refie<rt  the  full-orb'd  fun. 
From  mountain  fides  perennial  fountains  flow. 
And  flreams  majeflic  bend  their  courfe  below. 
Here  rife  the  groves ;  there  opes  the  fertile  lawn, 
Frefh  fragrance  breathes,  and  Ceres  waves  her  corn.. 
Along  the  eaft,  where  the  proud  billows  roar. 
Capacious  harbours  grace  the  winding  ihore : 
The  nation's  fplendour  and  the  merchant's  pride 
Wafts  with  each  gale,  and  floats  with  ev'ry  tide. 
From  Iroquois  to  vafl;  Superiour's  flrand. 
Spread  the  wide  lakes  and  infulate  the  land. 


THE  COLUMBIAN/ORATOR.         259 

Here  growing  Commerce  fhall  unfold  her  fail, 
Load  the  rich  bark,  and  woo  the  inland  gale. 
Far  to  the  weft,  where  favage  hordes  refide,    1 
Smooth  Miffifippi  rolls  his  copious  tide,  > 

And  fair  Ohio  weds  his  filver  fide.  3 

Hail,  happy  States  !  thine  is  the  blifsful  feat, 
"Where  nature's  gifts  and  art's  improvements  meet. 
Thy  temp'rate  air  breaths  health ;  thy  fertile  foil. 
In  copious  plenty,  pays  the  labourer's  toil. 
Aflc  not  for  mountains  of  Peruvian  ore. 
Nor  court  the  duft  that  fliines  on  Afric's  fhore. 
The  plough  explores  for  thee  the  richeft  mine  ; 
Than  autum's  fruit,  no  goodlier  ore  can  fhine. 
O'er  the  wide  plain  and  through  the  op'ning  glade. 
Flows  the  canal  obfequious  to  the  fpade. 
Commerce  to  wealth  and  knowledge  turns  the  key, 
Floats  o'er  the  land  and  fails  to  every  fea. 
Thrice  happy  art  I  be  thy  white  fail  unfurl'd. 
Not  to  corrupt,  but  focialize  the  world. 

The  mufe  prophetic  views  the  coming  day, 
When  federal  laws  beyond  the  line  (hall  fway. 
Where  Spanifh  indolence  ina<5tive  lies. 
And  ev'ry  art  and  ev'ry  virtue  dies ; 
Where  pride  and  avarice  their  empire  hold. 
Ignobly  great,  and  poor  amid  their  gold, 
Columbia's  genius  fliall  the  mind  infpire. 
And  fill  each  breaft  with  patriotic  fire. 
Nor  eaft  nor  weftern  oceans  fhall  confine 
The  gen'rous  flame  that  dignifies  the  mind ; 
O'er  all  the  earth  fhall  freedom's  banner  wave, 
The  tyrant  blafl:,  and  liberate  the  flave. 
Plenty  and  peace  fhall  fpread  from  pole  to  pole^ 
Till  earth's  grand  family  pofiefs  one  foul. 


240  THE  COL^JMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Dialogue  between  a  Master  and  Slave. 

M  /?  '    TWT^^'  villain  !  what  have  you  to  fay  for 

*^  *  J^^  this  fecond  attempt  to  run  away  ?  Is 
there  any  punifhment  that  you  do  not  defer ve  ? 

Slave.  I  well  know  that  nothing  I  can  fay  will 
avail.     I  fubmit  to  my  fate. 

Mafi.  But  are  you  not  a  bafe  fellow,  a  hardened 
iind  ungrateful  rafcal  ? 

Slave.     I  am  a  flave.     That  is  anfwer  enough. 

Mafl.  I  am  not  content  with  that  anfwer.  I 
thought  I  difcerned  in  you  fome  tokens  of  a  mind  fu- 
periour  to  your  condition.  I  treated  you  accordingly. 
You  have  been  comfortably  fed  and  lodged,  not  over- 
worked, and  attended  with  the  mod  humane  care  when 
you  were  fick.     And  is  this  the  return  ? 

Slave.  Since  you  condefcend  to  talk  with  me,  as 
man  to  man,  I  will  reply.  What  have  you  done,  what 
can  you  do  for  me,  that  will  compenfate  for  the  liberty 
which  you  have  taken  away  ? 

Maft.  I  did  not  take  it  away.  You  were  a  flave 
when  I  fairly  purchafed  you. 

Slave,     Did  I  give  my  confent  to  the  purchafe  ? 

Maft.  You  had  no  confent  to  give.  You  had  al- 
ready loft  the  right  of  difpofing  of  yourfelf. 

Slave.  I  had  loft  the  power,  but  how  the  right  ^  I 
was  treacheroufly  kidnapped  in  my  own  country,  when 
following  an  honeft  occupation.  I  was  put  in  chains, 
fold  to  one  of  your  countrymen,  carried  by  force  on 
|)oard  his  fhip,  brought  hither,  and  expofed  to  fale  like 
^  beaft  in  the  market,  where  you  bought  me.  What 
ilep  in  all  this  progrefs  of  violence  and  injuftice  can 
give  a  right  P  Was  it  in  the  villain  who  ftole  me,  in 
the  flave-merchant  who  tempted  him  to  do  fo,  or  in 
you  who  encouraged  the  flave-merchant  to  bring  his 
cai;go  of  human  cattle  to  cultivate  your  lands  ? 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  241 

MaJ}.  It  is  in  the  order  of  Providence  that  one  man 
fliould  become  fubfervient  to  another.  It  ever  has 
been  fo,  and  ever  will  be.  I  found  the  cuftom,  and 
did  not  make  it. 

Slave.  You  cannot  but  be  fenfible,  that  the  robber 
who  puts  a  piftol  to  your  breall;  may  make  juil  the  fame 
plea.  Providence  gives  him  a  pov/cr  over  your  Wid  and 
property  ;  it  gave  rny  enemies  a  power  over  my  liberty. 
But  it  has  alfo  given  me  legs  to  efcape  with  ;  and  what 
fliould  prevent  me  from  ufing  them  ?  Nay,  what  fliould 
reftrain  me  from  retaliating  the  wrongs  I  have  luilered, 
if  a  favourable  occailon  iliould  offer  ? 

MaJ}.  Gratitude  ;  I  repeat,  gratitude  !  Have  I  not 
endeavored  ever  fince  I  poireffed  you  to  alleviate  your 
misfortunes  by  kind  treatment ;  and  does  that  (tonfer 
-no  obligation  ?  Confider  how  much  worfe  your  condi- 
tion might  have  been  under  another  mafter. 

Slave.  You  have  done  nothing  for  me  more  than 
for  your  working  cattle.  Are  they  not  well  ff:d  ■3^x10. 
tended  ?  do  you  work  them  harder  than  your  (laves  r 
is  not  the  rule  of  treating  both  defigned  only  for  your 
own  advantage  ?  You"  treat  both  your  men  and  bead 
flaves  better  than  fome  of  your  neighbours,  becaufe  you 
are  more  prudent  and  wealthy  than  they. 

Majl.      You  might  add,  more  humane  too. 

Slave.  Humane  !  Does  it  deferve  that  appellation 
to  keep  your  fellow-men  in  forced  fabjetStion,  deprived 
of  all  exercife  of  their  free  will,  liable  to  all  the  inju- 
ries that  your  own  caprice,  or  the  brutality  of  your 
overfeers,  may  heap  on  them,  and  devoted,  foul  and 
body,  only  to  your  pleafare  and  emolument  ?  Can 
gratitude  take  place  between  creatures  in  fuch  a  ftate, 
and  the  tyrant  who  holds  them  in  it  ?  Look  at  thefe 
limbs  j  are  they  not  thofe  of  a  man  }  Think  that  I 
have  the  fpirit  of  a  man  too. 

Majl.     But  it  was  my  intention  net  only  to  make 
your  life  tolerably  comfortable  at  prefent,  but  to  pro- 
vide for  you  in  your  old  age. 
W 


24^  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

Slave.  Alas !  is  a  life  like  mine,  torn  from  country, 
friends,  and  all  I  held  dear,  and  compelled  to  toil  un- 
der the  burning  fun  foramafter,  worth  thinking  about 
for  old  age  ?  No  •,  the  fooner  it  ends,  the  fooner  I  fhall 
obtain  that  relief  for  which  my  foul  pants. 

Ma/I,  Is  it  impofiible,  then,  to  hold  you  by  any  ties 
but  thofe  of  conftraint  and  feverity  ? 

Slave.  It  is  impofiible  to  make  one,  who  has  felt  the 
value  of  freedom,  acquiefce  in  being  a  llave. 

MnJ?.  Suppole  I  were  to  reftore  you  to  your  liber- 
ty, would  you  reckon  that  a  favour  ? 

SLTve.  The  greateft :  for  although  it  would  only 
be  undoing  a  wrong,  I  know  too  well  how  few  among 
mankind  are  capable  of  facrificing  intereft  to  juftice, 
net  to  prize  the  exertion  when  it  is  made. 

Moj^-.     I  do  it,  then  ;  be  free. 

Slave.  Now  I  am  indeed  your  fervant,  though  not 
your  flave.  And  as  the  firfl  return  I  can  make  for 
your  kindnefs,  I  will  tell  you  freely  the  condition  in 
which  you  live.  You  are  furrounded  with  implacable 
foes,  who  long  for  a  fafe  opportunity  to  revenge  upon 
jQu  and  the  ether  planters  all  the  miferies  they  have 
endured.  The  more  generous  their  natures,  the  more 
Indignant  they  feel  againft  that  cruel  injuftice  wl\jch 
has  dragged  them  liither,  and  doomed  them  to  perpet- 
ual fervitude.  You  can  rely  on  no  kindnefe  on  your 
part,  to  foften  the  obduracy  of  their  refentm.ent.  You 
have  reduced  them  to  the  ftate  of  brute  beafts  •,  and  if 
they  have  not  the  ftupidity  of  beafts  of  burden,  they 
muft  have  the  ferocity  of  beafts  of  prey.  Superiour 
force  alone  can  give  you  fecurity.  As  foon  as  that  fails, 
you  are  at  the  mercy  of  the  mercilefs.  Such  is  the 
ibcial  bond  between  raafter  and  flave  ! 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  243 

Part  of  Mr.  O'Connor's  Speech  in  Ti-ii: 
Irish  House  of  Commons,  in  Favour  o?  the 
Bill  for  emancipating  the  Roman  Cath- 
olics, 1795. 

IF  I  were  to  judge  from  the  dead  illence  with  which 
my  rpee«h  has  been  received,  I  (hoiild  fiifpcdl:  that 
what  I  have  faid  was  not  very  palatable  to  lome  men 
in  this  Houfe.  But  I  have  not  riiked  connexions,  en- 
deared to  me  by  every  tie  of  blood  and  friendlhip,  to 
fupport  one  fet  of  men  in  preference  to  another.  I 
have  hazarded  too  much,  by  the  part  I  have  taken,  to 
allow  the  breath  of  calumny  to  taint  the  objetSls  I  have 
had  in  view.  Immutable  principles,  on  which  the 
happinefs  and  hberty  of  my  countrymen  depend,  con- 
vey to  my  mind  the  only  fubftantial  boon  for  which 
great  facrifices  fhould  be  made. 

And  I  here  avow  myfelf  the  zealous  and  earned 
advocate  for  the  moft  unqualified  emancipation  of  my 
Catholic  countrymen  -,  in  the  hope  and  convi£lion,  that 
the  monopoly  of  the  rights  and  liberties  of  my  country, 
which  has  hitherto  efFe£lually  withftood  the  efforts  cf 
a  part  of  the  people,  muft  yield  to  the  unanimous  will, 
to  the  decided  intereft,  and  to  the  general  eftbrt  of  a 
whole  united  people.  It  is  from  this  conviiSlion,  and 
it  is  for  that  tranfcendently  important  object,  th^t, 
while  the  noble  Lord  and  the  Right  Honorable  Secre- 
tary, are  offering  to  riils  their  lives  and  fortunes  in  fup- 
port of  a  fyftem  that  militates  again  ft  the  Hberty  of  my 
countrymen,  I  will  riik  every  thing  dear  to  me  en  earth. 

It  is  for  this  great  obje<R:  I  have,  I  fear,  more  than 
rifked  connexions  dearer  to  me  than  life  itfelf.  But 
he  muft  be  a  fpiritlefs  man,  and  this  a  fpiritlefs  nation, 
not  to  refent  the  bafenefs  of  a  Britilh  Minifter,  who  has 
raifed  our  hopes  in  order  to  feduce  a  rival  to  fliare  with 
him  the  difgrace  of  this  accurfed  political  crufade,  and 
blaft  them  afterwards,  that  he  may  degrade  a  competitor 


244        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

to  the  {latlon  of  a  dependant.  And,  that  he  may  de- 
ftroy  friendfkip  which  his  nature  never  knew,  he  has 
fported  with  the  feehngs  of  a  whole  nation.  Raifing 
the  cup  with  one  hand  to  the  parched  lip  of  expe<51:ancy,' 
he  has  daflicd  it  to  the  earth  with  the  other,  in  all  thC; 
wantonnefs  of  infult,  and  with  all  the  aggravation  of 
contempt. 

Does  he  imagine,  that  the  people  of  this  country, 
after  he  has  tantalized  them  with  the  cheering  hope  of 
prefent  alleviation,  and  of  future  profperity,  will  tamely' 
bear  to  be  forced  to  a  re-endurance  of  their  former 
fufferlngs,  and  to  a  re-appointment  of  their  former 
(pollers  ?  Does  he,  from  confidence  of  long  fuccefs  in 
debauching  the  human  mind,  exadl  from  you,  caUing 
yourfelves  the  reprefentatives  of  the  people  of  Ireland, 
to  reject  a  bill,  which  has  received  the  unanimous  con- 
fent  of  yotu"  conftituents  ?  or  does  he  mean  to  puzzle 
the  versatile  difpohtion  of  this  Houfe,  on  which  he  has 
made  fo  many  fuccefsful  experiments  already,  by  dii^ 
J;ra£ling  you  between  obedience  to  his  imperious  man- 
dates, and  obedience  to  the  will  of  the  people  you 
Ihould  reprefent  ? 

Or  does  he  flatter  himfelf,  that  he  fhall  now  fucceed, 
becaufe  he  has  fucceeded  in"  betraying  his  own  country, 
into  exchanging  that  peace,  by  which  flie  might  have 
retrieved  her  fliattered  finances,  for  a  war,  in  which  he 
has  fquandered  twenty  times  a  greater  treafurq,  in  the 
courfe  of  two  years,  than  with  all  his  famed  economy, 
he  had  been  able  to  fave,  in  the  courfe  of  ten  ?  for  a 
war  in  which  the  prime  youth  of  the  world  have  been 
offered  up,  victims  to  his  ambition  and  his  fchemes,  as 
boundlefs  and  prefumpfjous,  as  ill-concerted  and  ill- 
combined  •,  for  a  war  in  which  the  plains  of  every  nation 
in  Europe  have  been  crimfoned  with  oceans  of  blood ; 
for  a  war  in  which  his  country  has  reaped  nothing  but 
difgrace,  and  which  mjail:  ultimately  prove  her  ruin  ? 

Does  he  flatter  himfelf,  that  he  fhall  be  enabled, 
Satan  like,  to  end  his  pohtical  career  by  involving  the 
whole  empire  in  a  civil  war,  from  v.hich  nothing  can 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  24s 

accrue,  but  a  doleful  and  barren  conquefl  to  the  victor  ? 
I  truft  the  people  of  England  are  too  wile  and  too  jufi: 
to  attempt  to  force  meafures  upon  us  which  they  would 
themfelves  reject  with  difdain.  I  truft  they  have  not 
thenifelves  io  foon  forgotten  the  lelTon  tliey  fo  recently 
learned  from  America,  which  fhould  ferve  as  a  lading 
example  to  nations,  againft  employing  force  to  fubduc 
the  fpirit  of  a  people,  determined  to  be  free  I 

But  if  they  Ihould  be  fo  weak,  or  {o  wicked,  as  to 
fufFer  themfelves  to  be  feduced  by  a  man,  to  whofs 
foul,  duplicity  and  finefie  are  as  congenial,  as  ingenuouf- 
nefs  and  fair  dealing  is  a  ftranger,  to  become  the  inftrii- 
rnents  of  fupporting  a  few  odious  public  characters  in 
power  and  rapacity,  againft  the  intereil  and  againft  the 
fenfe  of  a  whole  people ;  if  we  are  to  be  dragooned 
into  meafures  againft  our  will,  by  a  nation  that  would 
lofe  her  laft  life,  and  expend  her  laft  guinea,  in  refcnt- 
ing  a  fimilar  infult,  if  offered  to  herfelf,  I  truft  Ihe  will 
find  in  the  people  of  this  country  a  fpirit  in  no  wife  in- 
ferior to  her  own. 

You  are  at  this  mament  at  the  moft  awful  period  of 
your  lives.  The  Miniiler  of  England  hr.s  committed 
you  with  your  country  ^  and  on  this  night  your  adop- 
tion or  reje<Stion  of  this  bill,  mull:  determine,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Irifli  nation,,  which  you  reprefent,  the  Min- 
ifter  of  England,  or  the  people  of  Ireland  !  And,  al- 
though you  are  convinced,  you  do  not  reprelent  the 
people  of  Ireland ;  although  you  are  convinced,  every 
man  of  you,  that  you  are  fclf-creaced,  it  does  not  altea: 
the  nature  of  the  contefl  j  it  is  ftill  a  conti^ft  between 
the  Minifter  of  England  and  the  people  of  Ireland  $ 
and  the  weaknefs  of  your  title  (liould  only  make  you 
the  more  circumfpe<5l:  in  the  exercife  of  your  power. 

Fortunately,  the  views  of  the  Britifli  Minilter  have 
been  dete.(Sted  •,  fortunately,  the  people  of  this  country 
fee  him  in  his  true  colours.  Like  the  defperate  gamefter, 
who  has  loft  his  all,  in  the  wildeO:  fchemes  of  aggran- 
dizement, he  looks  round  for  fome  dupe  to  fupply  him 
with  the  further  means  of  future  proje(^  j  and  in  the 
w  a 


246  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

crafty  fubtleiiefs  of  his  foul,  he  fondly  imagines,  he  has 
foimdthat  eafy  Jupe  in  the  credulity  of  the  Irifti  nation. 
After  he  has  exhauiled  his  own  country  in  a  crufade 
agaijift  that  phanroni,  pohtical  opinion,  he  flatters  him- 
felf  he  fliall-  be  enabled  to  refufcitate  her  at  the  ex- 
penfe  of  yours. 

As  you  value  the  peace^and  happinefs  of  your  coun- 
try ',  as  you  value  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  foil 
that  has  given  you  birth  *,  and  if  you  are  not  loft  to 
every  knCc  of  feeling  for  your  own  confequence  and 
importance  as  men,  1  call  on  you  this  night  to  make 
your  ftand.  I  call  on  you  to  rally  round  the  independ- 
ence of  your  country,  whofe  cxiilence  has  been  fo  art- 
fully aiKiiled*  Bi^lieve  me,  the  Britifh  minifter  will 
leave  you  in  the  lurch,  Vv-hen  he  fees  that  the  people 
of  this  nation  are  too  much  in  earneft  to  be  tricked  out 
of  their  rights,  or  the  independence  of  their  country. 

What  a  difplay  of  legiilation  have  we  had  on  this 
night  ?  ^Artificers  who  neither  know  the  foundation  on 
which  they  work,  the  inftruments  they  ought  to  ufe, 
nor  the  materials  required!  Is  it  on  the  narrow  hv.ih 
of  monopoly  and  excludon  you  v/ould  erect  a  temple 
to  the  grovving  liberty  of  your  country  ?  If  you  will  le- 
giflate  ;  knov/,  that  on  the  broad  bails  of  immutable  juf- 
tice  only,  you  can  raife  a  lafting,  beauteous  temple  to 
the  liberty  of  your  ifland ;  whofe  ample  bafe  tliall  lodge, 
and  whofe  roof  fhall  fhelter  her  united  family  from  the 
rankling  inclemency  of  rejection  and  exclulion.  Know, 
that  reafon  is  that  lilken  thread  by  which  the  lawgiver 
leads  his  people ;  and  above  all,  know,  that  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  temper  of  the  public  mind,  conilft.s 
the  fkill  and  the  vvifdom  of  the  iegiflator. 

Do  not  imagine  that  the  minds  of  your  countrymen 
have  been  ftationary,  while  that  of  all  Europe  lias  been 
rapidly  progreffive ;  for  you  niuft  be  blind  not  to  per- 
ceive, that  the  whole  European  mind  has  undergone  a 
revolution,  neither  confined  to  this  nor  to  that  country  j 
but  as  general  as  the  great  caufes  which  have  given  k 
bfrth,  and  ftill  continue  to  feed  its  growth.     I-n  vain  do 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  247 

thefe  men,  who  fubfift  but  on  the  abufes  of  the  gov- 
ernment under  which  they  live,  flatter  themfelves,  that 
what  we  have  feen  thefe  laft  fix  years  is  but  the  fever 
of  the  moment,  which  will  pafs  away  as  foon  as  the 
patient  has  been  let  blood  enough. 

As  well  may  they  attempt  to  alter  the  courfe  of  na- 
ture, without  altering  her  laws.  If  they  would  effect 
a  counter  revolution  in  the  European  mind,  they  mufl 
defbroy  commerce  and  its  efFedls  *,  they  mufl  abolifli 
every  trace  of  the  mariner's  compafs  ;  they  mufl  con- 
fign  every  book  to  the  flames  ;  they  mull  obliterate  ev- 
ery veflige  of  the  invention  of  the  prefs  ;  they  mufl 
deilroy  the  conduit  of  intelligence,  by  deftroying  the 
inflitution  of  the  poft  office.  Then,  and  not  till  then, 
they  and  their  abufes  may  live  on,  in  all  the  fecurity 
wliich  ignorance,  fuperflition,  and  want  of  concert  in 
the  people  cmi  beflov/. 

But  while  I  would  overwhelm  with  defpair  thofe 
men  who  have  been  nurfed  in  the  lap  of  venality  and' 
proftitution  ;  who  have  been  educated  in  contempt  and 
ridicule  of  a  love  for  their  country ;  and  who  have 
grown  grey  in  fcofling  at  every  thing  like  public  fpirit, 
let  me  congratulate  every  true  friend  to  mankind,  that 
that  commerce,  which  has  begotten  fo  much  independ- 
ence, will  continue  to  beget  more  •,  and  let  me  congrat- 
ulate every  friend  to  the  human  fpecies,  that  the  prefs, 
which  has  fent  fuch  a  mafs  of  information  into  the 
world,  will  continue,  with  accelerated  rapidity,  to  pour 
forth  its  treafures  fo  beneficial  to  mankind. 

It  is  to  thefe  great  caufes  we  are  indebted,  that  the 
combination  of  priefts  and  defpots,  which  fo  long  ty- 
rannized over  the  civil  and  political  liberty  of  EuropCj 
has  been  difl^olved.  It  is  to  thefe  great  caufes  we  are 
indebted,  that  no  priefl,  be  his  religion  what  it  may, 
dares  preach  the  dodlrine  which  inculcates  the  neceffity 
of  facrificing  every  right  and  every  blefling  this  world 
can  afford,  as  the  only  mean  of  obtaining  eternal  hap- 
pinefs  in  the  life  to  come. 


248         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

This  was  the  do(^rine  by  which  the  defpotifm  of 
Europe  was  fo  long  fupported  ;  this  was  the  dodl:rine 
by  which  the  political  popery  of  Europe  was  fupport- 
ed •,  but  the  dodlrine  and  the  defpotifm  may  now  deep 
in  the  fame  grave,  until  the  trumpet  of  ignorance,  fu- 
perftition,  and  bigotry,  fliall  found  their  refurre^ion. 


Scene  from  the  Tragedy  of  Tamerlane. 

Entef  Omar  and  Tamerlane. 

Omar.     TTONOR  and  fame 
iBo^uittg.']]^  _^  Forever  wait  the  Emperor  :  may  our 

Prophet 
Give  him  ten  thoufand  thoufand  days  of  life, 
And  every  day  like  this.     The  captive  fultan. 
Fierce  in  his  bonds,  and  at  his  fate  repining, 
Attends  your  facred  will. 

'Tamerlane.     Let  him  approach. 
[_Enter  Bajazet,   a  fid  other  TiirkiJJj  prif oners  in  chains^. 

ivith  a  guard.'] 
When  I  furvey  the  ruins  of  this  field, 
The  wild  deftru6lion,  which  thy  fierce  ambition 
Has  dealt  among  mankind  ;   (fo  many  widows 
And  helplefs  orphans  has  thy  battle  made. 
That  half  our  eaftern  world  this  day  are  mourners  •,) 
Well  may  I,  in  behalf  of  heaven  and  earth, 
Demand  from  thee  atonement  for  this  wrong. 

Bajazet,     Make  thy  demand  of  thofe  that  own  thy 
power ; 
Know  I  am  flill  beyond  it ;  and  though  fortune 
Has  flript  me  of  the  train  and  pomp  of  greatnefsj 
That  outfide  of  a  king  ;  yet  ftiil  my  foul, 
Fix'd  high,  and  of  itfelf  alone  dependent, 
Is  ever  free  and  royal ;  and  even  now. 
As  at  the  head  of  battle,  does  defy  thee. 
1  know  what  power  the  chance  of  war  has  given, 
And  dare  thee  to  the  ufe  on't.     This  vile  fpeechingj 
This  after-game  of  words,  is  what  moil  irks  me  5 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  249 

Spare  that,  and  for  the  reft  'tis  equal  ail, 
Be  it  as  It  may. 

Tarn.     AVell  was  it  for  the  world, 
When,  on  their  borders,  neighbouring  princes  met, 
Frequent  in  friendly  parle,  by  cool  debates 
Preventing  wafteful  war  :  fuch  ftiould  our  meeting 
Have  been,  hadft  thou  but  held  In  juft  regard 
The  fan6tity  of  leagues  fo  often  fworn  to. 
Canft  thou  believe  thy  Prophet,  or,  what's  more. 
That  Power  fupreme,  which  made  thee  and  thy  Prophet, 
Will,  with  Impunity,  let  pafs  that  breach 
Of  facred  faith  given  to  the  royal  Greek  ? 

Baj,     Thou  pedant  talker  !   ha  !   art  thou  a  king 
PoiTefs'd  of  facred  power,  Heaven's  darling  attribute. 
And  doft  thou  prate  of  leagues,  and  oaths,  and  Prophets! 
I  hate  the  Greek  (perdition  on  his  name  !) 
As  I  do  thee,  and  would  have  met  you  both. 
As  death  doth  human  nature,  for  deftrudtlon. 

Ta7n.     Caufelefs  to  hate,  is  not  of  human  kind  : 
The  favage  brute,  that  haunts  In  woods  remote 
And  defart  wilds,  tears  not  the  fearful  traveller. 
If  hunger,  or  fome  injury,  provoke  not. 

Baj.     Can  a  king  want  a  caufe,  when  empire  bids 
Go  on  ?  What  is  he  born  for,  but  ambition  ? 
It  is  his  hunger,  'tis  his  call  of  nature. 
The  noble  appetite  which  will  be  fatisfy'd. 
And,  like  the  food  of  gods,  makes  him  immortal. 

Tain.     Henceforth  I  will  not  wonder  we  were  foes. 
Since  fouls  that  differ  fo  by  nature,  hate. 
And  ftrong  antipathy  forbids  their  union. 

Baj.     The  noble  fire,  that  warms  me,  does  indeed 
Teanlcend  thy  coldnefs.     I  am  pleas'd  we  differ, 
Nor  think  alike. 

'Tain.     No  ;  for  I  think  like  man, 
Thou  like  a  monfter,  from  whofe  baleful  prefence 
Nature  ftarts  back ;  and  though  fhe  fix'd  her  flamp 
On  thy  rough  mafs,  and  mark'd  thee  for  a  man. 
Now,  confclous  of  her  error,  flie  difclaims  thee. 
As  form'd  for  her  deftruction. 


250         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

'Tis  true,  I  am  a  king,  as  tliou  haft  been  ; 

Honor  and  glory  too  have  been  my  aim  ; 

But  though  I  dare  face  death,  and  ail  the  dangers 

Which  furious  war  wears  in  its  bloody  front. 

Yet  would  I  choofe  to  fix  my  name  by  peace, 

By  juftice,  and  by  mercy  j  and  to  raife 

My  trophies  on  the  bleffings  of  mankind  : 

Nor  would  I  buy  the  empire  of  the  world  ' 

With  ruin  of  the  people  whom  I  fway. 

On  forfeit  of  my  honor. 

Baj,     Prophet,  I  thank  thee. 
Confufion  !  couldft  thou  rob  me  of  my  glory 
To  drefs  up  this  tame  king,  this  preaching  dervife  \ 
Unfit  for  war,  thou  ihouldfl:  have  liv'd  fecure 
In  lazy  peace,  and  with  debating  fenates 
Shar'd  a  precarious  fceptre  5  fat  tamely  ftill, 
And  let  bold  factions  canton  out  thy  power 
And  wrangle  for  the  fpoils  they  robbM  thee  of  ^ 
Whilft  I  (O  blaft  the  power  that  flops  my  ardor) 
Would,  like  a  tempeft,  rufh  amidft  the  nations. 
Be  greatly  terrible,  and  deal,  like  Alha, 
My  angry  thunder  on  the  frighted  world. 

Tarn.     The  world  !  'twould  be  too  little  for  thy  pride  *^ 
Thou  wouldft  fcale  heav'n. 

Baj,     I  would.     Away  !  my  foul 
Difdains  thy  conference. 

Tanto     Thou  vain,  rafh  thing, 
That,  with  gigantic  infoience,  baft  dar'd 
To  lift  thy  wretched  felf  above  the  ftars. 
And  mate  with  power  Almighty,  thou  art  falFn  ! 

Baj.     'Tis  falfe  !  I  am  not  fall'n  from  aught  I  have 
been  ! 
At  leaft  my  foul  refolves  to  keep  her  ftate. 
And  fcorns  to  make  acquaintance  with  ill  fortune. 

Tarn.     Almoft  beneath  my  pity  art  thou  fall'n  ; 
Since,  while  th'  avenging  hand  of  Heav'n  is  on  thee. 
And  prefTes  to  the  duft  thy  fwelling  foul. 
Fool-hardy,  with  the  ftronger  thou  contendeft. 
To  what  vaft  heights  had  thv  tumultuous  temper 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  25 1 

Been  hurry'd,  if  fuccefs  had  crown'd  thy  wifhes  ! 
Say,  what  had  I  to  expert,  if  thou  had  ft  conquer'd  ? 
Baj,     Oh,  glorious  thought  !  Ye  powers,  I  will  en- 
Though  but  in  fancy  ;  imagination  ikall  [joy  it. 

Make  room  to  entertain  the  vaft  idea. 
Oh  !  had  I  been  the  mafter  but  of  yefterday. 
The  world,  the  world  had  felt  me  •,  and  for  thee, 
I  had  ufed  thee,  as  thou  art  to  me,  a  dog, 
The  objeft  of  my  fcorn  and  mortal  hatred. 
I  would  have  cao'd  thee  for  the  fcorn  of  flaves. 

o 

I  would  have  taught  thy  neck  to  know  my  weight, 
And  mounted  from  that  footftool  to  the  faddle  : 
Till  thou  had  ft  beg'd  to  die  ;  and  e'en  that  mercy 
I  had  deny'd  thee.     Now  thou  know'ft  my  mind, 
And  queftion  me  no  farther. 

Tarn.     Well  doft  thou  teach  me 
What  juftice  ihould  exa(St  from  thee.     Mankind 
With  one  confent,  cry  out  for  vengeance  on  thee.x 
Loudly  they  call  to  cut  off  this  league-breaker, 
This  wild  deftroyer,  from  the  face  of  earth. 

Baj,     Do  it,  and  rid  thy  ihaking  foul  at  once 
Of  its  worft  fear. 

Tarn.     Why  flept  the  thunder 
That  fhould  have  arm'd  the  idol  deity, 
And  given  the  power,  ere  yefter  fun  was  fet. 
To  fhake  the  foul  of  Tamerlane.     Hadft  thou  an  arm 
To  make  thee  fear'd,thou  fhouldft  haveprov'd  it  on  mc, 
Amidft  the  fweat  and  blood  of  yonder  field. 
When,  through  the  tumult  of  the  war,  I  fought  ther, 
Fenc'd  in  with  nations. 

Baj.     Oh,  blaft  the  ftars 
That  fated  us  to  different  fcenes  of  {laughter  ! 
Oh  !  could  my  fword  have  met  thee  ! 

Tanu     Thou  hadft  then, 
As  now  been  in  my  power,  and  held  thy  life 
Dependent  on  my  gift.     Yes,  Bajazet, 
I  bid  thee  live.     So  much  my  foul  difdains 
That  thou  (houldft  think  I  can  fear  aught  but  Heaven. 
Nay  more ;  couldft  thou  forget  thy  brutal  fierceneis. 


2^2  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

And  form  thyfelf  to  manhood,  I  would  bid  thee 
Live  and  be  itill  a  king,  that  thou  mayil  learn 

What  man  fliould  be  to  man 

This  royal  tent,  with  fuch  of  thy  domeftics 

As  can  be  found,  fliall  wait  upon  thy  fervice ; 

Nor  will  I  ufe  my  fortune  to  demand 

Hard  terms  of  peace  ;  but  fuch  as  thou  mayft  offer 

With  honor,  I  with  honor  may  receive. 


Colonel  Barrels  Speech  in  the  British 
Parliament,  1765,  on  the  Stamp- Act  Bill. 

C%N  the  firft  reading  of  this  bill,  Mr.  Townfend 
/  fpoke  in  its  favour  ;  and  concluded  with  the  fol- 
lowing words  :  *«  And  will  thefe  Americans,  children 
planted  by  our  care  ;  nouriHied  up  by  our  indulgence 
until  they  are  grown  to  a  degree  of  llrengrh  and  opu- 
lence ;  and  protected  by  our  arms ;  will  they  grudge 
to  contribute  their  mite,  to  relieve  us  from  the  heavy 
weight  of  that  burthen  \\'hich  we  lie  under  ?" 

On  this  Colonel  Barre  rofe,  and  anfwered  Mr.  Town- 
fend  in  the  following  mafterly  manner. 

^*They  planted  by  YOUR- care  !"  No;  your  cp- 
prefiions  planted  them  in  America,  They  fled  from 
your  tyranny,  to  a  then  uncultivated  and  imhofpitable 
country  where  they  expofed  themfelves  to  alnioft  all 
the  hardlliips  to  which  human  nature  is  liable  ;  and 
among  others  to  the  cruelties  of  a  favage  foe,  the  moft 
fubtle,  and  I  will  take  upon  me  to  fay,  the  moft  for- 
midable of  any  people  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  and 
yet  adluated  by  principles  of  true  Englifh  liberty,  they 
met  all  hardfhips  with  pleafure,  compared  with  thofe 
they  fuffered  in  their  own  country,  from  the  hands  of 
thofe  who  fliould  have  been  their  friends. 

"  They  nourifhed  up  by  YOUR  indulgence  !"  They 
grew  by  your  negledl  of  them.  As  foon  as  you  began 
to  care  about  them,  that  care  was  exefcifed  in  fending 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  253 

perfons  to  rule  them,  in  one  department  and  another, 
who  were,  perhaps,  the  deputies  of  deputies  to  fome 
members  of  this  Houfe,  fent  to  fpy  out  their  Hberties, 
to  mifreprefent  their  a(n:ions,  and  to  prey  upon  them ; 
men,  whofe  behaviour,  on  many  occalions,  has  caufed 
the  blood  of  thofe  fons  of  liberty  to  recoil  within  them  ; 
men  promoted  to  the  higheft  feats  of  juftice  °,  fome, 
who,  to  my  knowledge,  were  glad,  by  going  to  a  for- 
eign country,  to  efcape  being  brought  to  the  bar  of  a 
court  of  juftice  in  their  own. 

"They  prote^ed  by  YOUR  arms!"  They  have 
nobly  taken  up  arms  in  your  defence ;  have  exerted  a 
valour,  amidft  their  conftant  and  laborious  induftry,  for 
the  defence  of  a  country,  whofe  frontier  was  drenched 
in  blood,  while  its  interior  parts  yielded  all  its  little 
favings  to  your  emoluments. 

And,  believe  me ;  remember  I  this  day  told  you  fof 
that  the  fame  fpirit  of  freedom,  which  actuated  that 
people  at  firft,  will  accompany  them  ftill.  But  pru- 
dence forbids  me  to  explain  myfelf  further.  Heaven 
knows,  I  do  not  at  this  time  fpeak  from  motives  of 
party  heat ;  what  I  deliver  are  the  genuine  fentiments 
of  my  heart. 

However  fuperiour  to  me  in  general  knowledge  and 
experience  the  refpe<ftable  body  of  this  Houfe  may  be, 
yet  I  claim  to  know  more  of  America  than  mod  of 
you,  haying  feen  and  been  converfant  in  that  country. 
The  people,  I  believe,  are  as  truly  loyal  as  any  fubjefts 
the  king  has ;  but  a  people  jealous  of  their  liberties, 
and  who  will  vindicate  them,  if  ever  they  (hould  be 
violated.  But  the  fubjeift  is  too  delicate,  1  will  fay  no 
moj:e. 


X 


254  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

The  Last  Day. 

Extract  from  a  manuscript  Poem. 

THE  day  of  Doom,  the  all  important  day, 
I  iing ;  that  Hnk  extreme  of  time,  which  joins 
The  meafur'd  chain  of  days,  and  months,  and  years. 
To  one  eternal,  one  effulgent  day  : 
Day  to  the  children  of  the  day  ;  but  night, 
Eternal  night,  to  all  the  fons  of  darknefs. 
The  time  affix'd  by  God's  decree  arrives. 
Th'  Almighty  fpake  ;  heaven  open'd  wide  her  gatcs^ 
The  herald,  Gabriel,  far  advanc'd  in  front, 
Rais'd  on  feraphic  wings,  firft  iflued  forth. 
Next  the  creation's  Sire,  veil'd  in  a  cloud 
Of  awful  gloom,  from  which  red  lightnings  flafh'd. 
And  rending  thunders  roar'd,  pafs'd  through  the  gates. 
At  his  right  hand  fat  his  eternal  Son, 
High  rais'd  upon  a  golden  throne  embofs'd 
With  gems,  that  fparkled  through  the  cloud.     Angels 
And  faints,  the  countlefs  hoft  of  thofe,  who  hold 
The  realms  of  blifs,  next  in  proceflion  mov'd  : 
Nor  could  the  wide-extended  fpace  from  Aries 
To  the  fcales,  that  poife  the  hemifpheres, 
Contain  the  army  of  the  fkies. 

The  earth  had  never  feen  a  larger  hofb, 
Than  when  the  foe  of  Greece  fpread  o'er  the  land 
And  fea  from  Hebrus  to  Thermopylae  ; 
But  this  was  fmall  compar'd  with  what  the  heavens 
Now  faw,  as  earth  is  fmall  compar'd  with  heaven. 
The  numerous  (lars,  that  hold  their  courfe  along 
The  milky-way,  and  in  the  neighb'ring  Ikies, 
No  fooner  faw  their  Maker  cloth'd  in  ftorms. 
And  felt  his  thunder  fliakc  their  folid  fpheres. 
Than  trembhng  they  retir'd  j  as  when  fome  king 
Enrag'd  frowns  on  his  flaves,  who  flee  his  face. 
Till  he  commands  them  ftand  and  hear  his  wilL 
So  had  the  fright^el  ftars  fied  off  and  left 


I 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  255 

The  mundane  fpace  all  void,  had  not  the  trump 
Of  Gabriel  interpos'd,  and  with  a  voice 
More  loud,  than  ever  yet  creation  heard, 
Imprefs'd  the  mandates  of  all  nature^s  God 
Upon  ail  nature's  works.     Ye  ftars  !   (faid  he) 
Return,  and  hold  your  ftation  in  your  orbs  -, 
There  ftand  and  fee  what  He  on  earth  tranfadls 
This  day,  and  witnefs  how  He  deals  with  man. 
Thou  fun  !  who  from  the  birth  of  time  haft  roU'd 
Thy  chariot  round  the  world,  and  Ihed  thy  beanrs 
Alike  on  all  mankind,  look  on  and  fee 
The  equal  juftice  of  thy  God  to  man 
Outfliine  thy  equal  rays.     Th'  aflVightcd  earth 
Took  the  alarm  of  heaven  :  the  atmofphere 
Aflay'd  to  flee  upon  the  wings  of  ftorm. 
Fierce  tempefts  beat  the  lofty  mountains'  fides, 
Sweep  forefts  down,  and  fpread  deftru<Stion  o'er 
The  works  of  man.     The  troubled  ocean  heaves  : 
His  furging  billows  mingle  with  the  clouds  : 
His  deepeft  caverns  lie  exposed  to  view. 
The  earth,  convuls'd  from  her  deep  centre,  heaves. 
Order  forfook  the  world :  difcord  fpread  wide. 
The  confus'd  elements  again  had  join'd 
The  liftlefs  empire  of  primeval  chaos, 
Had  not  harmonic  founds  affuag'd  their  tumult. 

Spirit  divine  !  thou  foul  of  harmony 
In  heaven  and  earth, breathe  through  my  lines  and  fpeak 
The  power  of  muflc's  churms,  v^hen  heavenly  love 
Warm'd  every  breaft  of  angels,  feraphim. 
And  doubly  glow'd  in  the  Almighty's  Son ; 
Who,  like  a  bridegroom  clad  in  fmiling  youth 
And  robes  of  peace,  prepar'd  to  meet  his  bride. 
The  lightnings  ceas'd  ;  the  thunders  died,  when  he 
Complacent  fmil'd.     Gabriel,  and  all  the  choir 
Of  heaven,  faid  he,  hufh  the  commoved  world. 
And  wake  the  fleeping  faints  with  founds  of  peace. 
His  words,  like  melting  mufic  flow'd  :  his  face, 
More  radiant  than  the  vernal  morn,  that  fmiles 
The  earth  to  joy.     The  trump -cJ^  Gabriel  led 


256         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

The  choral  fong  :  unnumber'd  harps  of  gold, 

And  voices  fweet  join'd  the  melodious  found-. 

Difcord,  that  late  had  rnov'd  the  elements 

To  war^  and  'gan  t*  invade  the  fpheres, 

Was  huili'd  to  fleep.     Quick  chang'd  the  fcenc. 

From  raging  difcord,  univerfal  ftorm, 

lo  foothing  founds,  and  univerfal  calm. 

The  fun,  from  blackeft  clouds,  unveil'd  his  face. 

And  ilione  with  double  radiance  on  the  earth. 

The  fixed  Aars  had  ceas'd  to  fhed  their  beams, 

And  trembling,  hid  in  fable  darknefs,  flood; 

Ikit  novv,  enraptur'd  v/ith  fymphonious  founds, 

Vh^Y  dart  their  genial  rays,  and  fill  their  crbf; 

With  pleaang  light,  and  fouI-rcviving  warmth. 

But  thou,  O  Earth,  moft  felt  the  pleafing  change.- 

Fierce  ftorms  were  mute. 

Old  ocean  heard,  and  fmooth'd  his  tempeft  face  y 
And  fpring-like  beauty  fm.ird  on  all  the  earth. 

Poets  have  fung  of  Orpheus'  potent  lyre ; 
Eurydice,  forced  from  the  bands  of  death. 
Of  bending  trees  and  moving  rocks  obfequious 
To  the  found.     But  now  whole  w^crids  obey. 
Death  could  not  hold  his  victims  in  the  tomb. 
^'  Thou  monarch  of  the  grave,  refign  the  juft  ! 
Awake  !  ye  faints,  from  your  long  night  of  fleep, 
Adorn'd  with  ever-blooming  youth  and  robes 
Of  heav'nly  innocence.     Salute  the  morn 
Of  everlaiiing  day."     Thus  fung  the  choir. 
Death's  dreary  maniions  heard  with  fad  difmay. 
In  the  mid  regions  of  eternal  night. 
There  fits  the  ghaftly  monarch  on  his  throne. 
.Subftantial  darknefs  fills  the  broad  domain : 
Heart-chilling  vapours  rife  from  noxious  lakes. 
His  fervants,  War,  Intemp'rance,  Plague,  Revenge, 
Confumption,  wrinkled  Age,~  groan  difcord  round 
His  throne,  and  ofi^er  up  their  loathfome  fumes 
Of  putrid  corps,  contagion,  dead'ning  blafis  y 
Sweet  incenfe  to  their  king ;  or  run  before 
liis  griily  fteed,  when  he  rides  o'er  the  earth 


THE  COLUlMBrAN  ORATOR.  257 

And  crops  with  chilling  hand  the  bloom  of  life. 

Here  reigns  the  awful  monarch  of  the  dead  ; 

When  tlie  full  founds  fpread  thro'  his  darkfome  realms, 

His  heart  appall'd,  he  trembles  on  his  throne  : 

His  iron  nerves  relax :  Jiis  fceptre  falls. 

The  faints  releasM,  their  dreary  manlions  leave  : 

But  O  how  chang'd  ! 

No  cumb'rous  load  of  grofler  elements, 

But  pure  aerial  forms  their  fouls  pofTefs'd  ; 

Forms,  like  the  glorious  body  of  their  Lord, 

Glowing  with  beauty  and  immortal  bloom. 


A  Dialogue  on  Loquacity. 

Rnter  Stephen. 

c,    T  T     ADIES  and  gentlemen,  you  have  prob- 

'  '  *  1  A.  ably  heard  of  Foote,  the  comedian  :  if 
not,  it  is  out  of  my  power  to  tell  you  any  thing  about 
him  except  this  \  he  had  but  one  leg,  and  his  name 
was  Samuel.  Or,  to  fpeak  more  poetically,  one  leg 
he  had,  and  Samuel  was  his  name.  This  Foote  wrote 
a  farce,  called  the  Alderman  ;  in  which  he  attempted 
to  ridicule  a  well-fed  magiftrate  of  the  city  of  London. 
This  lal%  hearing  of  the  intended  affront,  called  upon 
the  player,  and  threatened  him  feverely  for  his  pre- 
fumption.  Sir,  fays  Foote,  it  is  my  bulinefs  to  take  off 
people.  You  fhall  fee  how  well  I  can  take  myfelf  off. 
So  out  of  the  room  he  went,  as  though  to  prepare. 
The  Alderman  fat  waiting,  and  waiting,  and  witing, 

and 1  have  forgotten   the  reft  of  the  ftory  •, 

but  It  ended  very  comically.  So  I  muft  requeft  of  you, 
to  mufter  up  your  wit,  and  each  one  end  the  ftory  to 
his  own  liking.  You  are  all  wondering  what  this 
ftory  leads  to.  Why,  I'll  tell  you  ;  Foote's  farce  was 
called  the  Alderman,  ours  is  called  the  Medley ;  his 
was  written  according  to  rule,  ours  is  compofed  at  loofe 
ends.  Yet  loofe  as  it  is,  you  will  find  it  made  up>  like 
X  2 


25^  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

all  other  pieces,  of  nouns,  pronouns,  verbs,  participlesy 
adverbs,  conjundllons,  articles,  adje<5tives,  prepoiitions, 
and  interjections.  Now,  words  are  very  harmlefs 
things ;  though  I  confefs  that  much  depends  upon  the 
manner  of  putting  them  together.  The  only  thing  to 
be  fettled  is,  that,  if  you  lliould  diilike  the  arrange- 
ment, you  will  pleafe  to  alter  it,  till  it  furts  you. 
Enter  Truman. 

Truman.    What  are  you  prating  about  at  fuch  a  rate  ? 

^teph,  I  am  i]3eaking  of  Sam  Foote,  and  prepofitions, 
and  adverbs,  and  many  other  great  characters. 

Tru.  Now,  don't  you  know,  that  your  unruly 
tongue  will  be  ihc  ruin  of  you  ?  Did  you  ever  lee  a  man 
who  was  foaming  and  frothing  at  the  mouth  as  you  are, 
that  ever  faid  any  tiling  to  the  purpofe  ?  You  ought 
always  to  think  before  you  fpeak,  and  to  confider  well 
to  whom  you  fpeak,  and  the  place  and  time  of  fpeaking. 

S>teph,     Pray  who  taught  you  all  this  worldly  wifdom  I 

Trii.  My  own  experience,  Sir;  which  is  faid  to  be 
the  befl:  fchool-mafter  in  the  world,  and  ought  to  teach 
it  to  every  man  of  common  fenfe. 

Sieph.  Then,  do  not  imagine  that  you  poffefs  any 
great  fccret.  ''  Keep  your  tongue  between  your  teeth'* 
is  an  old  proverb,  rufted  and  crufted  over,  till  nobody 
can  tell  what  it  was  firfl  made  of.  Prudence  indeed, 
teaches  the  fame.  So  prudence  may  teach  a  merchant 
to  keep  his  veiTels  in  port  for  fear  of  a  ftorm  at  fea. 
But  "  nothing  venture,  nothing  have"  is  my  proverb. 
Now,  fuppofe  all  the  world  fhould  adopt  this  prudence, 
what  a  multitude  of  mutes  we  flxould  have  !  There 
would  be  an  end  of  news,  law-fuits,  politics,  and  foci^ 
cty.  I  tell  you,  Sir,  that  bufy  tongues  are  like  main 
fprings ;  they  fet  every  thing  in  motion. 

Trii.  But  where's  a  man's  dignity,  all  this  time, 
while  his  tongue  is  running  at  r?rfidom,  without  a  fin- 
gle  thought  to  guide  it  ? 

Sleph.  His  dignity!  that  indeed  !  Oat  upon  parole, 
where  it  ought  to  be.  A  man's  dignity  !  as  though 
we  camt?  into  the  world  to  fupport  dignity,  and  by  au 


THE  COLUIMBIAN  ORATOR.         25<? 

affected  diftance,  to  make  our  friends  feel  their  inferi- 
ority. I  confider  men  like  coins,  which,  becaufe 
ftamped  with  men's  heads,  pafs  for  more  than  they 
are  worth.  And  when  the  world  is  willing  to  treat 
a  man  better  than  he  deferves,  there  is  a  meannefs  in 
endeavouring  to  extort  more  from  them. 

Tru.  But  fhall  a  man  fpeak  without  thinking?  Did 
you  ever  read  the  old  proverb^  "  Think  twice,  before 
you  fpeak  once  ?'* 

Steph.  Yes,  and  a  vile  one  It  is.  If  a  man  fpeak 
from  the  impulfe  of  the  moment,  he'll  fpeak  the  mean- 
ing of  his  heart ;  and  will  probably  fpeak  the  truth. 
But  if  he  mind  your  mufty  proverb,  there  will  be 
more  pros  and  cons  in  his  head,  more  hams  and  haws 
sn  his  delivery,  than  there  are  letters  in  his  fentences. 
To  your  fly,  fubtle,  thinking  fellows,  we  owe  all  the 
lies,  cheating,  hypocrify,  and  double  dealing  there  is 
in  the  world. 

Ti'u.  But  you  know  that  every  fubje^l  has  its  fides  j 
and  we  ought  to  examine,  refle<5l,  anaiize,  fift,  confider, 
and  determine,  before  we  have  a  right  to  fpeak ;  for 
the  world  are  entitled  to  the  befl  of  our  thoughts. 
What  would  you  think  of  a  tradefman,  who  fhould  lend 
home  your  coat,  boots,  or  hat,  half  finiflied  ?  You 
might  think  hini  a  very  honefl-hearted  fellow  •,  but 
you'd  never  employ  him  again. 

Steph.  Now,  was  there  any  need  of  bri  "'glng  in  tai- 
lors, cobblers,  and  hatters,  to  help  you  out  ?  They 
have  nothing  to  do  with  this  fubjeiSV. 

Tru.  You  don't  underf^and  me.  I  fay,  if  you 
would  never  employ  fuch  workmen  a  fecond  time,  why 
fhould  you  juftify  a  man  for  turning  out  his  thoughts 
half  finifhed?  The  mind  labours  as  acSlually  in  thinking 
upon,  and  maturing  a  fubjefl,  as  the  body  does  in  the 
field,  or  on  the  Ihop-board.  And,  if  the  farmer  knows 
when  his  grain  is  ready  for  the  fickle,  and  the  mechanic, 
when  his  work  is  ready  for  his  cuflomer,  the  man,  who 
is  ufed  to  thinking,  knows  when  he  is  mafter  of  his 


26o         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

fubje^l,    and    the   proper   time  to    communicate    his 
thoughts  with  eafe  to  himfelf  and  advantage  to  others. 

Stepb.  All  that  is  efcaping  the  fubje<St.  None  of 
your  figures,  when  the  very  original  is  before  you. 
You  talk  about  a  man's  mind,  jufl  as  if  it  were  a 
piece  of  ground,  capable  of  bearing  flax  and  hemp. 
You  have  fairly  brought  forward  a  fhop-board,  and 
mounted  your  tailor  upon  it  !  Now  I  have  no  notion 
of  any  crofs-legged  work  in  my  inner  man.  In  fadl, 
I  don't  underftand  all  this  procefs  of  thinking.  My 
knowledge  upon  all  fubjefts  is  very  near  the  root  of  my 
tongue,  and  I  feel  great  relief,  when  it  gets  near  the  tip. 

jfrw.     Depend  on  it,  that  thoufands  have  loft  fame 
and  even  life  by  too  great  freedom  of  fpeech.     Trea- 
fons,  murders,  and  robberies,  have  been  generally  dif- 1 
covered  by  the  imprudent  boafling  of  the  perpetrators. 

Steph.  Depend  on  it,  that  our  world  has  fuiFered 
far  more  by  filent,  than  by  prattling  knaves.  Suppofe 
every  man  were  to  fpeak  all  his  thoughts,  relate  all  his 
a<Stions,  declare  all  his  purpofes,  would  the  world  be  in 
danger  of  crimes  ?  No  •,  be  aflured,  that  magiftrates, 
bailiffs,  thief-takers,  prifons,  halters,  and  gallows,  all 
owe  their  dignity  to  the  contrivance  of  your  fly,  plod- 
ding mutes. 

Tru,  You  have  let  off  from  the  tip  of  your  tongue 
a  picked  company  of  dignified  fubftantives  •,  but  take 
notice  that  my  do6lrine  does  not  extend  to  the  mid,- 
night  fllence  of  robbers ;  but  to  a  due  caution  and  re- 
ferve  in  conveying  our  thoughts  to  the  world.  And 
this  I  hope  ever  to  obferve.  And  if  you  determine  on 
a  different  courfe,  reft  affured,  that  the  confequences 
will  not  be  very  pleafant.  [^Exit. 

Steph.  Confequences !  That^s  counting  chickens  be- 
fore they  are  hatched.  Dignity  of  human  nature  ! 
Pretty  words  !  juft  fit  to  be  ranked  with  the  hcnor  of 
thieves,  and  the  courage  of  modern  duellifts. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  261 


American  Sages. 

SEE  on  yon  darkening  height  bold  Franklin  tread, 
HeavVs  awful  thunders  rolling  o'er  his  head ; 
Convolving  clouds  the  billowy  Ikies  deform. 
And  forky  flames  emblaze  the  black'ning  ftorm. 
JSee  the  defcending  ftreams  around  him  burn. 
Glance  on  his  rod,  and  with  his  guidance  turn ; 
He  bids  conflicting  heav'n's  their  blafts  expire, 
Curbs  the  fierce  blaze,  and  holds  th'  imprifon'd  fire. 
No  more,  when  folding  florms  the  vault  o'erfpread. 
The  livid  glare  fliall  ftrike  thy  face  with  dread ; 
Nor  tow'rs  nor  temples,  fiiuddVing  with  the  found. 
Sink  in  the  flames,  and  fpread  deftru£lion  round. 
His  daring  toils,  the  threat'ning  blafts  that  wait, 
Shall  teach  mankind  to  ward  the  bolts  of  fate ; 
The  pointed  fteel  o'er-top  th'  afcending  fpire. 
And  lead  o'er  trembling  walls  the  harmlefs  fire  5 
In  his  glad  fame  while  diftant  worl-ds  rejoice, 
Far  as  the  lightnings  fhine,  or  thunders  raife  their  voicc- 

See  the  fage  Rittenhoufe,  with  ardent  eye, 
Lift  the  long  tube,  and  pierce  the  flarry  fky : 
Clear  in  his  view  the  circling  fyftems  roll, 
And  broader  fplendours  gild  the  central  pole. 
He  marks  what  laws  th'  eccentric  wand'rers  bind, 
Copies  creation  in  his  forming  mind, 
And  bids,  beneath  his  hand,  in  femblance  rife. 
With  mimic  orbs,  the  labours  of  the  Ikies. 
There  wond'ring  crowds,  with  raptur'd  eye,  behold 
The  fpangled  heaven's  their  myftic  maze  unfold ; 
"While  each  glad  fage  his  fplendid  hall  fhall  grace. 
With  all  the  fpheres  that  cleave  th'  etherial  fpace. 

To  guide  the  failor  in  his  wand'ring  way, 
See  Godfrey's  toils  reverfe  the  beams  of  day. 
His  lifted  quadrant  to  the  eye  difo-iys 
From  adverfe  fkies  the  counteraiSling  rays : 
And  marks,  as  devious  fails  bewilder'd  roll. 
Each  nice  gradation  from  the  ftedfaft  pole. 


252         THE'  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech,  Nov. 
1 8,  1777,  ON  American  Affairs. 

I  RISE,  my  lords,  to  declare  my  fentiments  on  this 
moft  folemn  and  ferious  fubje<Sl.  It  has  impofed 
a  load  upon  my  mind,  which,  I  fear,  nothing  can  re- 
move •,  but  which  impels  me  to  endeavour  its  allevia- 
tion,by  a  free  and  unreferved  communication  of  my  fen- 
timents. In  the  firft  part  of  the  addrefs,  I  have  the 
honor  of  heartily  concurring  with  the  noble  Earl  who 
moved  it.  No  man  feels  flncerer  joy  than  I  do  ;  none 
can  offer  more  genuine  congratulation  on  every  accef- 
fion  of  ftrength  to  the  Proteftant  fucceffion  :  I  there- 
fore join  in  every  congratulation  on  the  birth  of  an- 
other princefs,  and  the  happy  recovery  of  her  Majefty. 

But  I  muft  flop  here  ;  my  courtly  complaifance  will 
carry  me  no  farther.  I  will  not  join  in  congratulation 
on  misfortune  and  difgrace.  I  cannot  concur  in  a 
blind  and  fervile  addrefs,  which  approves,  and  endeav- 
ours to  fandtify,  the  monflrous  meafures  that  have  heap- 
ed difgrace  and  misfortune  upon  us  ;  that  have  brought 
ruin  to  our  doors.  This,  my  lords,  is  a  perilous  and 
tremendous  moment  !  It  is  not  a  time  for  adulation. 
The  fmoothnefs  of  flattery  cannot  now  avail  5  cannot 
fave  us  in  this  rugged  and  awful  crifis.  It  is  now  ne- 
ceflary  to  inftruft  the  throne  in  the  language  of  truth. 
We  muft  difpel  the  deluiion  and  the  darknefs  which 
envelop  it ;  and  difphy,  in  its  full  danger  and  true 
colours,  the  ruin  that  is  brought  to  our  doors. 

And  luho  is  the  minifter  j  ivhere  is  the  minifter,  who 
has  dared  to  fuggeft  to  the  throne  the  contrary,  un- 
conftitutional  language,  this  day  delivered  from  it  ? 
The  accuftomed  language  from  the  throne  has  been 
application  to  Parliament  for  advice,  and  a  reliance  on 
its  conftitutional  advice  and  affiftance.  As  it  is  the 
right  of  Parliament  to  give,  fo  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
crown  to  alk  it.     But  on  this  day,  and  in  this  extreme 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  263 

momentous  exigency,  no  reliance  is  placed  on  our 
conftitutional  counfels  !  no  advice  is  allied  from  the 
fober  and  enlightened  care  of  Parliament !  But  the 
crown,  from  itfelf,  and  by  itfelf,  declares  an  unaltera- 
ble determination  to  purfue  meafures.  And  what 
meafures,  my  lords  ?  The  meafures  that  have  produ- 
ced the  imminent  perils  that  threaten  us  j  the  meafures 
that  have  brought  ruin  to  our  doors. 

Can  the  Minifter  of  the  day  now  prefume  to  v-^xpe^l 
a  continuance  of  fupport,  in  this  ruinous  infatuation  ? 
Can  Parliament  be  fo  dead  to  its  dignity  and  its  duty, 
as  to  be  thus  deluded  into  the  lofs  of  the  one,  and  the 
violation  of  the  other  ?  To  givQttp  unlimited  credit 
and  fupport  for  the  perfeverencem  meafures,  which 
have  reduced  this  late  flourifhing  empire  to  ruin  and 
contempt !  "  But  yefterday,  and  England  might  have 
flood  againft  the  world  :  now  none  fo  poor  to  do  her 
reverence."  I  ufe  the  words  of  a  poet  ;  but  though 
it  is  poetry,  it  is  no  fitSlion.  It  is  a  fliameful  truths 
that  not  only  the  power  and  ftrength  of  this  country 
are  wafting  away  and  expiring ;  but  her  well-earned 
glories,  her  true  honors,  and  fubftantial  dignity,  are 
Sacrificed. 

France,  my  lords,  has  infulted  you  ;  flie  has  encour- 
aged and  fuftained  America  *,  and  whether  America  be 
wrong  or  right,  the  dignity  of  this  country  ought  to 
fpurn  at  the  officious  infult  of  French  interference. 
The  minifters  and  ambafladors  of  thofe  who  are  called 
rebels  and  enemies,  are  in  Paris  j  in  Paris  they  tranf- 
a£l  the  reciprocal  interefts  of  America  and  France. 
Can  there  be  a  more  mortifying  infult  ?  Can  even  our 
minifters  fuftain  a  more  humiliating  difgrace?  Do  they 
dare  to  refent  it  ?  Do  they  prefume  even  to  hint  a 
vindication  of  their  honor,  and  the  dignity  of  the  State, 
by  requiring  the  difmiftal  of  the  plenipotentiaries  of 
America  ?  Such  is  the  degradation  to  which  they  have 
reduced  the  glories  of  England  ! 

The  people,  whom  they  afFe(^  to  call  contemptible 
rebels^  but  whofe  growing  power  has  at  iaft  obtaiaed 


264         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

the  name  of  enemies;  the  people  with  whom  they^ 
have  engaged  this  country  in  war,  and  againft  whom 
they  now  command  our  implicit  fupport  in  every  meaf^  i 
ure  of  defperate  hoftility  :  this  people,  defpifed  as  reb-; 
els,  or  acknowledged  as  enemies,  are  abetted  againft  J 
you  *,  fupplied  with  every  military  ftore  ;  their  intereftsj 
confulted,  and  their  ambafladors  entertained,  by  your] 
inveterate  enemy !  and  our  minifters  dare  not  inter- 
pofe  with  dignity  or  efFe6l.  Is  this  the  honor  of  a^ 
great  kingdom  ?  Is  this  the  indignant  fpirit  of  England, 
who,  but  yefterday,  gave  law  to  the  houfe  of  Bour- 
bon ?  My  lords,  the  dignity  of  nations  demands  a  de- 
cifive  conduct  in  a  fituation  like  this. 

This  ruinous  and  ignominious  fituation,  where  wc 
cannot  adl  with  fuccefs,  nor  fuffer  with  honor,  calls 
upon  us  to  remonftrate  in  the  flrongefi:  and  loudeft  lan- 
guage of  truth,  to  refcue  the  ear  of  Majefty  from  the 
delufions  which  furround  it.  The  defperate  ftate  of  our 
arms  abroad  is  in  part  known.  No  man  thinks  more 
highly  of  them  than  I  do.  I  love  and  honor  the  En- 
glilh  troops.  I  know  they  can  achieve  any  thing  except 
impollibilities  :  and  I  know  that  the  conqueft  of  EngHfh 
America  is  an  impoffibility.  You  cannot,  I  venture 
to  fay  it,  you  CANNOT  conquer  America. 

Your  armies,  laft  war,  eiFe^led  every  thing  that 
could  be  effected  °,  and  what  was  it  ?  It  coft  a  numerous 
army,  under  the  command  of  a  moft  able  general,  now 
a  noble  lord  in  this  Houfe,  a  long  and  laborious  cam- 
paign, to  expel  five  thoufand  Frenchmen  from  French 
America.  My  lords,  you  CANNOT  conquer  Amer- 
ica. What  is  your  prefent  fituation  there  ?  We  do 
not  know  the  worft ;  but  we  know,  that  in  three 
campaigns  we  have  done  nothing,  and  fuffered  much. 
We  fliall  foon  know,  and  in  any  event,  have  reafon  to 
lament,  what  may  have  happened  fince. 

A^  to  con quefi,  therefore,  my  lords,  I  repeat,  it  is 
impoflible.  You  may  fweli  every  expenfe,  and  every 
effort,  fl:iU  more  extravagantly  j  pile  and  accumulate 
every  afliftance  you  can  buy  or  borrow,  traffic  and 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  265 

barter  with  every  little  pitiful  German  prince,  who 
fells  his  fubje<^s  to  the  fliambles  of  a  foreign  power ; 
your  efforts  are  forever  vain  and  impotent ;  doubly  fo 
from  this  mercenary  aid  on  which  you  rely.  For  it 
irritates,  to  an  incurable  refentmeiit,  the  minds  of  your 
enemies,  to  overrun  them  with  the  mercenary  fons  of 
rapine  and  plunder ;  devoting  them  and  their  poffef- 
lions  to  the  rapacity  of  hireling  cruelty  !  If  I  were  an 
American,  as  I  am  an  Engl ifli man,  while  a  foreign 
troop  remained  in  my  country,  I  NEVER  would  lay 
down  my  arms  ;  NEVER,  NEVER,  NEVER. 


Scene  from  the  Tragedy  of  Cato. 

Cato,  Lucius,  and  Sempronious. 

p      TTJ' ATHERS,  we  once  again  are  met  in  council : 
*  JL    Cefar's  approach  has  fummon'd  us  together. 
And  Rome  attends  her  fate  from  our  refolves. 
How  fliall  we  treat  this  bold,  afpiring  man  ? 
Succefs  ftill  follows  him,  and  backs  his  crimes  : 
Pharfalia  gave  him  Rome,  Egypt  has  lince 
Receiv'd  his  yoke,  and  the  whole  Nile  is  Cefar's. 
Why  ftiould  I  mention  Juba's  overthrow. 
And  Scipio's  death  ?  Numidia's  burning  fands 
Still  fmoke  with  blood.     'Tis  time  we  iliould  decree 
What  courfe  to  take.     Our  foe  advances  on  us. 
And  envies  us  even  Lybia*s  fultry  deferts. 
Fathers,  pronounce  your  thoughts  ;  are  they  ftill  fixM 
To  hold  it  out,  and  fight  it  to  the  laft  ? 
Or  are  your  hearts  fubdu'd  at  length,  and  wrought 
By  time  and  ill  fuccefs  to  a  fubmiffion  ? 
Sempronious,  fpeak. 

Sempronious.     My  voice  is  ftiil  for  war. 
Heav'ns  !  can  a  Roman  fenate  long  debate 
Which  of  the  two  to  choofe,  llav'ry  or  death  ? 
No ;  let  us  rife  at  once,  gird  on  our  fwords, 
And  at  the  head  of  our  remaming  troops, 


266         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Attack  the  foe,  break  through  the  thick  array 

Of  his  throng'd  legions,  and  charge  home  upon  him. 

Perhaps  fome  arm,  more  hicky  than  the  reft. 

May  reach  his  heart,  and  free  the  world  from  bondage. 

Rife,  fathers,  rife  !  'tis  Rome  demands  your  help  j 

Rife,  and  revenge  her  flaughter'd  citizens. 

Or  fhare  their  fate  !  The  corpfe  of  half  her  fenate 

Manure  the  fields  of  TheiTaly,  while  we 

Sit  here  delib'rating  in  cold  debates. 

If  we  fhall  facrifice  our  lives  to  honor, 

Or  wear  them  out  in  fervitude  and  chains. 

Roufe  up,  for  fhame  !   our  brothers  of  Pharfalla 

Point  at  their  wounds,  and  cry  aloud.  To  battle  ? 

Great  Pompey's  {hade  complains  that  we  are  flow. 

And  Scipio's  ghoft  walks  unreveng'd  among  us. 

Cato.     Let  not  a  torrent  of  impetuous  zeal 
Tranfport  thee  thus  beyond  the  bounds  of  reafon. 
True  fortitude  is  feen  in  great  exploits 
That  juftice  warrants,  and  that  wifdom  guides. 
Ail  elfe  is  tow'ring  frenzy  and  diftradtion. 
Are  not  the  lives  of  thofe  who  draw  the  fword 
In  Rome's  defence  entrufted  to  our  care  ? 
(Should  we  thus  lead  them  to  the  field  of  flaughterj 
Might  not  tlv  impartial  world  with  reafon  fay. 
We  lavifh'd  at  our  deaths  the  blood  of  thoufands. 
To  grace  our  fall,  and  make  our  ruin  glorious  ? 
Lucius,  we  next  would  know  what's  your  opinion  ? 

Lnc.  My  thoughts,  I  mufl:confefs,are  turn'd  on  pejic^,* 
Already  have  our  quarrels  fiU'd  the  world 
With  widows,  and  wuth  orphans.     Scythia  mourns 
Our  guilty  wars,  and  earth's  remoteft  regions 
Lie  half  unpeopled  by  the  feuds  of  Rome. 
'Tis  time  to  flieath  the  fword,  and  fpare  mankind. 
It  is  not  Cefar,  but  the  gods,  my  fathers ; 
The  gods  declare  againft  us ;  repel 
Our  vain  attempts.     To  urge  the  foe  to  battle. 
Prompted  by  blind  revenge,  and  wild  defpair, 
Were  to  refufe  th'  awards  of  Providence, 
And  not  to  reft  in  Heav'n's  determination. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  i6n 

Already  have  we  fhown  our  love  to  Rome ; 

Now  let  us  fliow  fubmiflion  to  the  gods. 

We  took  up  arms,  not  to  revenge  ourfelves, 

But  free  th'  commonwealth;  when  this  end  fails, 

Arms  have  no  farther  ufe  :  our  country's  caufe, 

That  drew  our  i words, now  wrefts  them  from  our  hands, 

And  bids  us  not  delight  in  Roman  blood, 

Unprofitably  flied.     What  men  could  do. 

Is  done  already.     Heav'n  and  earth  will  witnefs, 

If  Rome  muft  fall,  that  we  are  innocent. 

Cato.     Let  us  appear  nor  rafli  nor  diffideni:  j 
Immod'rate  valour  fwells  ir.to  a  fault  ; 
And  fear,  admitted  into  public  councils. 
Betrays  like  treafon.     Let  us  fhun  them  both. 
Fathers,  I  cannot  fee  that  our  affairs 
Are  grown  thus  defpVate  :  we  have  bulwarks  round  us 
Within  our  walls  are  troops  inur'd  to  toil 
In  Afric's  heats,  and  feafon'd  to  the  fun  : 
Numidia's  fpacious  kingdom  lies  behind  us. 
Ready  to  rife  at  its  young  prince's  call. 
While  there  is  hope,  do  not  diftruft  the  gods ; 
But  wait  at  leaft  till  Cefar's  near  approach 
Force  us  to  yield.     'Twill  never  be  too  late 
To  fue  for  chains,  and  own  a  conqueror. 
Why  fhould  Rome  fall  a  moment  ere  her  time  ? 
No,  let  us  draw  our  term  of  freedom  out 
In  its  full  length,  and  fpin  it  to  the  laft  \ 
So  (hall  we  gain  ftill  one  day's  liberty : 
And  let  me  perifli ;  but  in  Cato's  judgment, 
A  day,  an  hour  of  virtuous  liberty, 
Is  worth  a  whole  eternity  in  bondage. 


26S         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR'. 

Extract  from  ak  Oration,  delivered 
AT  Boston,  July  4,  1 794,  in  Commemoration  of 
American  Independence. 

AMERICANS !  you  have  a  country  vaft  in  extent, 
and  embracing  all  the  varieties  of  the  moft  fa- 
liibrious  climes :  held  not  by  charters  wrefted  from  un- 
willing kings,  but  the  bountiful  gift  of  the  Author  of 
nature.  The  exuberance  of  your  population  is  daily 
divefiing  the  gloomy  wildernefs  of  its  rude  attire,  and 
iplendid  cities  rife  to  cheer  the  dreary  defert.  You 
liave  a  government  defervedlv  celebrated  as  "  giving 
the  fandtions  of  law  to  the  precepts  of  reafon  *,"  pre- 
fenting,  inftead  of  the  rank  luxuriance  of  natural  liceh- 
tioufnefs,  the  corrected  fweets  of  civil  liberty.  You 
have  fought  the  battles  of  freedom,  and  enkindled  that 
facred  flame  which  now  glows  with  vivid  fervour 
through  the  greateft  empire  in  Europe. 

We  indulge  the  fanguine  hope,  that  her  equal  laws 
and  virtuous  conduft  will  hereafter  afford  examples  of 
imitation  to  all  furrounding  nations.  That  the  blifsful 
period  will  foon  arrive  when  man  fhall  be  elevated  to 
his  primitive  character  j  when  illuminated  reafon  and 
regulated  liberty  fhall  once  more  exhibit  him  in  the 
image  of  his  Maker ;  when  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
globe  fhall  be  freemen  and  fellow-citizens,  and  patriot- 
ifm  itfelf  be  loft  in  univerfal  philanthropy.  Then  fhall 
volumes  of  incenfe  inceffantly  roll  from  altars  infcribed 
to  liberty.  Then  fiiall  the  innumerable  varieties  of  the 
human  race  unitedly  "  worfhip  in  her  facred  temple, 
whofe  pillars  fhall  reft  on  the  remoteft  corners  of  the 
earth,  and  whofe  arch  will  be  the  vault  of  heaven." 


THE  COLOMBIAN  ORATOR.         2^9 

Dialogue  between  a  white  Inhabitant 
OF  THE  United  States  and  an  Indian. 

irri'.  -n/r  "XT'OUR  fricnds,  the  Inhabitants  of  the 
White  Man.  y  United  States,  willi  to  bury  the 
tomahawk,  and  live  in  peace  with  the  Indian  tribes. 

Indian.  Juftice  is  the  parent  of  peace.  The  Indians 
love  war  only  as  they  love  juftice.  Let  us  enjoy  our 
rights,  and  be  content  with  yours,  and  we  will  hang  the 
tomahawk  and  fcalping-knife  upon  the  tree  of  peace, 
and  lit  down  together  under  its  branshes. 

W.  Man.  This  is  what  we  deiire,  and  what  is  your 
intereft  as  well  as  ours  to  promote.  We  have  often 
made  leagues  with  you;  they  have  been  as  often  broken. 
If  juftice  were  your  guide,  and  peace  your  defire,  they 
would  be  better  regarded. 

Ind.  The  white  men  are  robbers.  We  do  not  choofe 
to  be  at  peace  with  robbers  \  it  is  more  to  our  honor 
to  be  at  war  with  them. 

W.  Man.  It  is  in  our  power  to  punilli  the  aggref- 
fors  ;  we  have  more  warriors  than  the  Indians  ;  but  we 
choofe  to  employ  arguments  rather  than  force. 

Ind.  I  have  heard  the  arguments  of  White  Men  : 
they  are  a  fair  bate  ;  but  their  intentions  are  a  bearded 
hook.  You  call  us  brothers,  but  you  treat  us  like  beafts ; 
you  wifh  to  iSade  with  us,  that  you  may  cheat  us;  you 
would  give  us  peace,  but  you  would  take  our  lands,  and 
leave  us  nothing  worth  fighting  for. 

W.  Man.  The  White  Men  want  your  lands;  but 
they  are  willing  to  pay  for  them.  The  great  Parent 
has  given  the  earth  to  all  men  in  common  to  improve 
for  their  fuftenance.  He  delights  in  the  numbers  of 
.his  children.  If  any  have  a  fuperiour  claim,  it  muft  be 
thofe,  who,  by  their  arts  and  induftry,  can  fupport  the 
greateft  number  on  the  fmalleft  territory. 

Ind.  This  is  the  way  you  talk;  you  a£l  differently. 
You  have  good  on  your  tongue,  but  bad  in  your  heart, 
y  2 


270         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 

I  have  been  among  White  Men.  I  know  as  much 
about  them  as  you  d(\  about  Red  Men.  What  would 
your  people  fay,  if  poor  men  ihould  go  to  a  rich  man, 
and  tell  him,  the  great  Parent  has  given  the  earth  to  all 
men  in  common;  we  have  not  land  enough;  you  have 
more  than  you  need  ;  he  delights  in  the  number  of  his 
children  ;  your  great  farm  fupports  but  few;  by  our  fu- 
periourarts  and  induftry,  it  would  fupport  many;  you 
may  move  to  one  corner  of  your  land ;  that  is  ilifficient 
for  you  ;  we  will  take  the  reft.  We  will  live  together 
iis  brothers,  if  you  will  be  at  peace  with  us  ;  if  not,  we 
have  more  warriors  thaa  you  ;  it  is  in  our  power  to 
punilh  the  aggreflbrs.  Should  you  call  thisjuft.'*  No!  no! 

JV.  .Man.  "  Surely  not. 

IinL  Then  jullice  among  White  Men  and  Red 
Men  is  diHerent :  will  you  fliow  me  the  difference  ?  I 
thought  juf^ice  was  our  friend  as  well  as  yours. 

W.  Man.  AVe  nre  governed  by  laws  that  protect 
eiir  property,  and  punifli  the  difturbers  of  peace. 

Ind.  Then  by  what  law  do  you  encroach  upon  our 
property,  zmd.  difturb  our  peace  ?  If  you  confidcr  us  as 
your  brothers,  your  laws  ought  to  prote<5l  us  as  well  as 
yourfelves. 

W,  Man.  Our  ways  of  living  are  different  from 
yours.  We  have  many  employments  and  much  prop- 
erty:  your  manners  are  fimple,  your  pofTeflions  fmall; 
our  laws,  of  courfe,will  not  apply  to  your  circumftances. 

Ind,  I  know  you  have  many  laws  on  paper,  and  fome 
that  ought  to  make  the  paper  blufh.  We  have  but  few ; 
they  are  founded  in  juflice,  and  written  .on  the  heart. 
They  teach  us  to  treat  a  ftranger  as  our  friend;  to  open 
our  doors  and  fpread  our  tables  to  the  needy.  If  a 
white  man  come  among  us,  our  heart  is  in  our  hand  ; 
all  we  have  is  his ;  yet  you  call  us  favages  !  But  that 
muft  mean  fomething  better  than  civilized,  if  you  are 
civilized. 

W.  Man,  We  do  not  impeach  your  hofpitality,  nor 
cenfure  your  humanity  in  many  inftances ;  but  how 
can  you  juflify  your  promifcwous  flaughter  of  the  in«- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  27J 

nocent  and  guilty,  your  cruel  mafTacres  of  helplefs 
wives  and  children,  who  never  injured  you  ? 

Ind.  If  a  man  provoke  me  to  fight  with  him,  I  will 
break  his  head  if  I  can  :  if  he  is  ftronger  than  I,  then  I 
muft  be  content  to  break  his  arm  or  his  finger.  When 
the  war-hoop  is  founded,  and  we  take  up  the  toma- 
hawk, our  hearts  are  one  :  our  caufe  is  common  ;  the 
wives  and  children  of  our  enemies  are  our  enemies  alfo  ; 
they  have  the  fame  blood,  and  we  have  the  fame  thirfl: 
for  it.  If  you  wifh  your  wives  and  children  fhould 
efcape  our  vengeance,  be  honeft  and  friendly  in  your 
dealings  with  us  ;  if  they  have  rufiians  for  their  pro- 
testors, they  mufl  not  expecSl  fafety. 

W.  Man.  We  have  both  the  fame  claim  from  each 
other  ;  friendniip  and  juftice  are  all  we  require.  Our 
ideas  on  thefe  fubjecls  are  different ;  perhaps  they  will 
never  agree.  On  one  fide,  ferocity  will  not  be  dictated 
by  humanity,  nor  ftubbornnefs  by  reafon  ;  on  the  other, 
knowledge  is  not  difpofed  to  be  advifed  by  ignorance* 
nor  power  to  ftoop  to  v/eaknefs. 

Ind.  I  believe  we  ihall  not  make  peace  by  our  talks. 
If  the  contention  is,  who  has  the  moll:  humanity,  let 
him  who  made  us  judge.  We  have  no  pretentions  to 
fuperiour  knowledge  ;  we  afk,  who  knows  beft  how  to 
ufe  what  they  have  ?  If  we  contend  for  power,  our 
arms  muft  decide  :  the  leaves  muft  wither  on  the  tree 
of  peace ;  we  fhall  cut  it  down  with  the  battle-axe, 
and  ftain  the  green  grafs  that  grows  under  it  with  your 
blood. 

W.  Man.  You  know  the  bleffings  of  peace,  and  the 
calamities  of  war.  If  you  wifh  to  live  fecure  in  your 
wigwams,  and  to  rove  the  foreft  unmolef3:ed,  cultivate 
our  friendship.  Break  not  into  our  houfes  in  the  de- 
fencelefs  hours  of  fleep.  Let  no  more  of  our  innp- 
cent  friends  be  dragged  from  their  prote(Stors  and  driven 
into  the  inhofpitable  wildernefs  ;  or  what  is  ftill  more 
inhuman,  fall  vidims  to  your  unrelenting  barbarity  \ 
If  you  prefer  war  wc  fliall  drive  its  horrors  into  your 


272         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

own  fettlements.    The  fword  ftiall  deftroy  your  friends, 
and  the  fire  confume  your  dwellings. 

Ind.  "We  love  peace  ;  we  love  our  friends ;  we  love 
all  men,  as  much  as  you.  When  your  fathers  came 
over  the  big  water,  we  treated  them  as  brothers  :  they 
had  nothing  :  peace  and  plenty  were  among  us.  All 
the  land  was  ours,  from  the  eaft  to  the  weft  water  \ 
from  the  mountains  of  fnow  in  the  north,  to  the  burn- 
ing path  of  the  fun  in  the  fouth.  They  were  made 
welcome  to  our  land  and  to  all  we  pofTefled.  To  talk 
like  White  Men,  they  were  beggars  and  we  their  ben- 
efactors :  they  were  tenants  at  will,  and  we  their  land- 
lords. But  we  nouriflied  a  viper  in  our  bofoms.  You 
have  poifoned  us  by  your  luxury  ;  fpread  contention 
among  us  by  your  fubtlety,  and  death  by  your  treach- 
ery. The  Indians  have  but  two  predominant  paffions, 
friendfhip  and  revenge.  Deal  with  us  as  friends,  and 
you  may  fifh  in  our  rivers  or  hunt  in  our  forefts.  Treat 
us  not  like  fervants ;  we  fliall  never  own  you  as  maf- 
ters.  If  you  provoke  us,  our  vengeance  will  purfue 
you.  We  fliall  drink  your  blood  ;  you  may  fpill  ours. 
We  had  rather  die  in  honorable  war,  than  live  in  dif- 
honorable  peace. 


Extract  from  an  Oration  pronounced 
AT  Boston,  July  4,  1796. 

THAT  the  befl  way  for  a  great  empire  to  tax  her 
colonies  is  to  confer  benefits  upon  them,  and, 
that  no  rulers  have  a  right  to  levy  contributions  upon 
the  property,  or  exaiH:  the  fervices  of  their  fubje<5ts, 
without  their  own,  or  the  confent  of  their  immediate 
reprefentatives,  were  principles  never  recognized  by 
the  miniftry  and  parliament  of  Great-Britain.  Fatally 
enamoured  of  their  felfifh  fyftems  of  policy,  and  obfti- 
nately  determined  to  effedl  the  execution  of  their  ne- 
farious purpofes,  they  were  deaf  to  the  fuggeftions  of 
reafon  and  the  demands  of  juftice»   The  frantic,  though 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  273 

tranRent  energy  of  intoxicated  rage  was  exhibited  in 
their  every  aft,  and  blac4iened  and  diftorted  the  features 
of  their  national  character. 

On  the  contrary,  Americans  had  but  one  obje<St  in 
view,  for  in  Independence  are  concentrated  and  con- 
denfed  every  bleffing  that  makes  Hfe  deiirable,  every 
right  and  every  privilege  which  can  tend  to  the  hap- 
pinefs  or  fecure  the  native  dignity  of  man.  In  the  at- 
tainment of  Independence,  were  all  their  paflions,  their 
defires,  and  their  powers  engaged.  The  intrepidity 
and  magnanimity  of  their  armies  ;  the  wifdom  and  in- 
flexible firmnefs  of  their  Congrefs ;  the  ardency  of  their 
patrioiifm  ;  their  unreplning  patience,  when  afTailed 
by  dangers  and  perplexed  with  aggravated  misfortunes, 
have  long  and,  defer vedly  employed  the  pen  of  pane- 
gyric and  the  tongue  of  eulogy. 

Through  the  whole  revolutionary  conflict,  a  confift- 
ency  and  fyftematic  regularity  were  preferved,  equally 
honorable  as  extraordinary.  The  unity  of  defign  and 
claflically  corre<5t  arrangement  of  the  feries  of  incidents 
which  completed  the  Epic  ftory  of  American  Independ- 
ence, were  fo  wcniierful,  fo  well  wrought  that  political 
Hypercriticifm  was  abafhed  at  the  mighty  production, 
and  forced  to  join  her  iifter  Envy,  in  applauding  the 
glorious  compofition. 

It  is  my  pleafing  duty,  my  fellow-citizens,  to  felici- 
tate you  on  the  eftablifhment  of  our  national  fovereign- 
ty ;  and  among  tlie  various  fubje<Sts  for  congratulation 
and  rejoicing,  this  is  not  the  moft  unimportant,  that 
Heaven  has  fpared  fo  many  veterans  in  the  art  of  war ; 
fo  many  fages,  who  are  verfed  in  the  beft  politics  of 
peace;  men, who  were  able  to  inltruftandto  govern,  and 
whofe  faithful  fervices,  whofe  unremitted  exertions  to 
promote  the  public  profperity,  entitle  them  to  our  firm- 
eft  confidence  and  warmeft  gratitude.  Uniting  in  the 
celebration  of  this  anniverfary,  I  am  happy  to  behold 
many  of  the  iiluftrious  remnant  of  that  band  of  patriots, 
who,  defpifing  danger  and  death,  determined  to  be  free, 
or  glorioufly  perifti  in  the  caufe.     Then:  countenances 


\ 


274         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

beam  inexpreffible  delight !  our  joys  are  increafed  by 
their  prefencc  •,  our  raptures  are  heightened  by  their 
participation.  The  feelings,  which  infpired  them  in 
the  "times  which  tried  men's  fouls,"  are  communicated 
to  our  bofoms.  We  catch  the  divine  fpirit  which  im- 
pelled them  to  bid  defiance  to  the  congregated  hoft  of 
defpots.  We  fwear  to  preferve  the  bkilings  they  toiled 
to  gain,  which  they  obtained  by  the  incelTant  labours  of 
eight  diftrefsful  years  ;  to  tranfmit  to  our  pofterity, 
our  rights  undiminifhed,  our  honor  untarniilied,  and 
our  freedom  unimpaired. 

On  the  laft  p'age  cf  Fate's  eventful  volume,  with  the 
raptured  ken  of  prophecy,  I  behold  Columbia's  name  re- 
corded ;  her  future  honors  and  happinefs  infcribed.  In 
the  fame  important  book  the  approaching  end  of  Ty- 
ranny and  the  triumph  of  Right  and  Juftice  are  writ- 
ten in  indelible  charadlers.  The  ftruggle  will  foon  be 
over  ;  the  tottering  thrones  of  defpots  will  quickly  fall, 
and  bury  their  proud  incumbents  in  their  mafly  ruins  I 

Then  Peace  on  earth  fliali  hold  her  eafy  fway, 
And  man  forget  his  brother  man  to  flay. 
To  martial  arts,  iliall  milder  arts  fucced  •, 
Who  blefles  mod,  fhall  gain  the  immortal  meed. 
The  eye  of  Pity  fhall  be  pain'd  no  more, 
With  victory's  crimfon  banners  ftain'd  with  gore. 
Thou  glorious  era,  com.e  !  Hail  blelTed  time  ! 
When  full-orbed  freedom  ihall  unclouded  fliine  *, 
When  the  chafte  Mufes  cherifh'd  by  her  rays, 
In  olive  groves  Ihall  tune  their  fweeteft  lays  ; 
When  bounteous  Ceres  fhall  direft  her  car, 
O'er  fields  now  blafted  by  the  fires  of  war ; 
And  angels  view,  with  joy  and  wonder  join'd3 
The  golden  age  return*d  to  blefs  mankind  ! 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         ^75 


Dialogue  between  Edward  and  Harry. 

[Edward,  aloney  readwg.^ 

Enter  Harry,  ivhh  an  important  air. 

Marry,  J-j^  Ediuard.  What,  is  it  you,  brother 
Harry?  Were  it  not  for  the  fmall  part  of  your  face, 
that  appears  between  your  fore-top  and  your  cravat,  I 
fliould  never  have  known  you. 

Har,  My  appearance  is  a  little  altered,  to  be  fure  j 
but  I  hope  you  will  allow  it  is  for  the  better. 

Ediu.  I  wifh  I  could.  I  perceive,  that,  fome  how 
or  other,  you  are  completely  metamorphofed  from  a 
plain  country  lad,  to  a  Bofton  buck,  beau,  or  fopj 
which  is  the  current  word  in  your  varying,  town  dia- 
ledl,  to  exprefs  fuch  a  thing  as  yourfelf  ^ 

Har.  Ah,  either  of  them  will  do.  The  young  la** 
dies  fometimes  call  me  Tippy  Harry  j  that  fuits  my  ear 
the  beft. 

Edw.  That,  I  fuppofe,  means  a  little  fop,  or,  as  I 
iliould  exprefs  it,  difoppee,  who  is  obliged  to  ftand  tip- 
toe to  reach  a  lady  her  fan. 

Har.  One  of  your  clownifh  blunders,  Ned.  It 
means  an  airy  young  gentleman,  dreiTed  out  in  complete 
bon  ton  from  head  to  foot,  like  myfelf. 

Edw.  "  An  airy  young  gentleman,  dreiled  out  in 
complete  bon  ton^  &c.  &c."  This  definition  may  be  of 
fervicc  to  me  ;  I  will  try  to  remember  it.  You  always 
pofTelTed  one  quality  of  a  gentleman,  a  large  fhare  of 
good  humour  :  I  hope  you  will  not  be  angry,  brother^ 
if  I  am  a  little  inquifitive. 

Har.  Do,  Ned,  leave  off  ufing  that  old-fafliion- 
ed  word  :  I'd  rather  you  would  do  any  thing  to  me 
than  brother  me  at  this  rate.  If  you  fhould  come  to 
Bofton,  drelTed  as  you  are  now,  with  your  clumfy 
^oes,  coarfe  ftockings,  great  fmall  deaths,  home-fpuR 


^76-         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

coat,  and  your  old  rufty  go-to- mill  hat,  and  ihake 
hands  with  me,  in  your  awkward  way  ;  and  then,  to 
complete  the  whole,  Ihould  call  me  brother y  I  ihould  be 
thunderftruck  !  For  my  credit^s  fake,  I  ihould  fwear 
it  was  fome  crazy  ftraggler,  I  had  feen  in  the  country, 
and  given  a  few  coppers  to  keep  him  from  ftarving.  I 
would  hide  behind  the  counter,  or  lie  rolled  up  in  a 
piece  of  broadcloth  a  week,  rather  than  be  caught  in 
fuch  a  fcrape. 

Ed.  An  airy  young  gentleman,  indeed !  would 
fwear  to  half  a  dozen  lies,  hide  behind  the  counter, 
and  roll  yourfelf  up  in  a  piece  of  broadcloth  like  a  iilk- 
worm,  to  fave  your  credit  !  You  have  improved  much 
beyond  my  expe<Slations,  Tippy  Harry  !  This  founds 
better  in  your  refined  ear  than  brother  Harry,  I  fup- 
pofe. 

Har.  Yes  it  does,  Ned,  I'll  aiTure  you  :  that's  your 
fort  \  You  begin  to  come  on  a  little.  Now  I'll  tell  you 
how  it  is,  Ned ;  if  you  would  take  your  old  mufty  li- 
brary here,  and  lay  it  all  on  the  fire  together,  and  burn 
all  your  old-fafhioned  clothes  with  it,  and  then  go  to 
Boflon— 

Edw.     What,  without  any  clothes,  Harry  ? 

Har.  Why,  I  think  I  Ihould  about  as  lief  be  feen 
with  you  ftark  naked,  as  with  your  coarfe,  narrow- 
backed,  *fliort-wai{led  coat.  But  as  I  was  faying  be- 
fore, then  put  yourfelf  under  the  care  of  a  tailor,  bar- 
ber, fhoe-maker,  and  a  dancing-mafter  j  keep  a  flore 
of  Englifh  goods  about  three  months,  go  to  the  Thea- 
tre a  dozen  nights,  chat  with  our  Boflon  Tippies,  have 
a  few  high  goes,  and  freeze  and  thaw  two  or  three 
times,  for  you  are  monftroufly  ftiff ;  I  fay  after  ail  this, 
I  believe,  Ned,  you  would  make  a  very  clever  fellow. 

Edw.  The  freezing  and  thawing  is  a  kind  of  dif- 
cipline  I  fhould  not  fo  readily  comply  with.  I  have 
heard  of  feveral  of  your  clever  fellows^  and  ladies  of 
your  forty  who  were  found  frozen  in  old  barns,  and 
behind  board  fences ;  but  I  never  knew  they  were  io 
fortunate  as  to  thaw  again.     Now,  Harry,  I  will  be 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  277 

ferious  with  you.  Your  airy  young  gentleman,  in  my 
opinion,  is  a  very  infipid  chara(!;1:er  ;  far  beneath  my  am- 
bition. A  few  materials  from  behind  the  counter,  the 
tailor's  needle  and  faears,  the  barber's  pufF  and  poma- 
tum, a  Uttle  Iheep-flcin  modified  by  the  fhoe-maker, 
and  what  is  the  moft  inlignificant  of  all,  a  little  fupple, 
puny  machine,  that  in  plain  EngHfh,  I  Ihould  call  a 
naked  fool ;  to  flrut  about  the  ilreets  with  all  this  fni- 
ery ;  carry  it  to  the  theatre,  or  dancing  fchooi :  and 
teach  It  to  fay  a  few  pretty  things  by  rote  ;  thefc  make 
the  gentlemen  o£  yotirfort.  Mine  is  compofcd  of  quite 
different  materials. 

Har,  Pray  let  me  know  what  they  are  ?  homc- 
fpun,  I  dare  fiy.  I  am  fuperfine,  you  fee,  fi*om  head 
to  foot. 

Echu.  Yes,  Harry,  you  have  blundered  into  one 
jufl:  obfervation.  In  the  iirft  place,  I  would  lay  up  a 
good  ftore  of  knowledge,  home-Jpim  from  my  own  re- 
flections, reading,  and  obfervation ;  not  the  fecond- 
handed  fmattering  of  the  moft  ignorant  of  all  beings 
who  ufe  a  tongue.  The  tailor's,  barber's,  and  dancing- 
m.after's  bill  lliould  not  fliow  an  inventory  of  all  I  pof- 
fefied.  They  may  make  my  clothes,  drefs  my  hair, 
and  teach  me  how  to  bow  ;  but  there  muft  be  fome- 
thing  more  to  command  the  bow  of  refpetSt  from  people 
of  fenfe,  the  judges  of  real  m.erit.  In  fliort,  I  would  be 
a  gentleman  farmer;  too  well  Informed  to  be  influenced 
by  your  railing  newfpaper  politics ;  too  much  delight- 
ed with  the  bleating  and  playing  of  the  flocks  in  my 
own  pafture,  to  read  the  head  of  Theatricals^  or  be 
amufed  with  any  drove  of  ftage-players,  that  have  in- 
fefted  our  country  from  Charlefton  to  Portfmouth. 
And  I  fliould  be  much  more  proud  of  raifing  one  like- 
ly calf,  than  as  many  of  the  moft  infipid  of  all  animal'-, 
called  Tippiesy  as  could  ftand  in  every  {hop  in  Cornhill. 


2)3  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


David  and  Goliath. 


w 


"HERE  is  the  mighty  man  of  war,  who 
dares 
Accept  the  challenge  of  Philiftia's  chief  ?  * 

What  vi£tor-king,  what  gen'ral  drench'd  in  blood. 
Claims  this  high  privilege  ?  What  are  his  rights  ? 
What  proud  credentials  does  the  boafter  bring. 
To  prove  his  claim  ?  What  cities  laid  in  afhes. 
What  ruin'd  provinces,  what  flaughter'd  realms. 
What  heads  of  heroes,  and  what  hearts  of  kings. 
In  battle  kill'd,  or  at  his  altars  llain. 
Has  he  to  boaft  ?  Is  his  bright  armoury 
Thick  fet  with  fpears,  and  fwords,  and  coats  of  mail^ 
Of  vanquifli'd  nations,  by  his  iingle  arm 
Bubdu'd  ?  Where  is  the  mortal  man  fo  bold, 
So  much  a  wretch,  fo  out  of  love  with  life. 
To  dare  the  weight  of  this  uplifted  fpear. 
Which  never  fell  innoxious  ?  Yet  I  fwear, 
I  grudge  the  glory  to  his  parting  foul 
To  fall  by  this  right  hand.     'Twill  fweeten  deathc  1 

To  know  he  had  the  honor  to  contend  ^ 

With  the  dread  fon  of  Anak.     Lateft  time 
From  blank  oblivion  fhall  retrieve  his  name, 
Whp  dar'd  to  perifh  in  unequal  fight 
With  Gath's  triumphant  champion.     Come,  advance  I 
Philiftia's  Gods  to  Ifrael's.     Sound,  my  herald, 
Sound  for  the  battle  ftraight  ! 

David.     Behold  thy  foe  ! 

Gol.     I  fee  him  not. 

Dav.     Behold  him  here ! 

Go/.     Say,  where  ? 
Direct  my  fight.     I  do  not  war  with  boys. 

Dav.     I  {land  prepared  ;  thy  fingle  arm  to  mine. 

GoL  Why,  this  is  mockery,  Minion!  It  may  chance 
To  cofl  thee  dear.  Sport  not  with  things  above  thee: 
But  tell  me  who,  of  all  this  numerous  hofl, 


J 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  279 

Experts  his  death  from  me  !  Which  is  the  man. 
Whom  Ifrael  fends  to  meet  my  bold  defiance  ? 

Dav.     Th'  election  of  mv  fov'reifrn  fills  on  mc. 

Gol.     On  thee  !  on  thee  !  By  Dagon,  'tis  too  much ! 
Thou  curled  Minion  !  thou  a  nation's  champion  ? 
^Twould  move  my  mirth  at  any  other  time  \ 
But  trifling's  out  of  tune.     Begone,  light  boy  ' 
And  tempt  me  not  too  far. 

Dav.     I  do  defy  thee, 
Thou  foul  idolater  !  Haft  thou  not  fcornM 
The  armies  of  the  living  God  I  ferve  ? 
By  me  he  will  aveiige  upon  thy  head 
Thy  nation's  fins  and  thine.     Arm'd  with  his  naaie^ 
Unfhrinking,  I  dare  meet  the  ftouteft  foe 
That  ever  bath'd  his  hoftile  fpear  in  blood. 

GoL  Indeed !  'tis  wondrous  well !  Now,  by  my  Gods, 
The  ftripling  plays  the  orator  !  Vain  boy  ! 
Keep  clofe  to  that  f^e  bloodlefs  war  of  words. 
And  thou  fhalt  ftill  be  fafe.     Tongue-valiant  warrior  ! 
Where  is  thy  fylvan  crook,  with  garlands  hung, 
Of  idle  field-flowers  "i  Where  thy  wanton  harp, 
Thou  dainty-finger'd  hero  ?  Better  ftrike 
Its  note  lafcivious,  or  the  lulling  lute 
Touch  foftly,  than  provoke  the  trumpet's  rage. 
I  will  not  ftain  the  honor  of  my  fpear 
With  thy  inglorious  blood.     Shall  that  fair  clieek 
Be  fcarr'd  with  wounds  unfeemly  ?  Rather  go. 
And  hold  fond  dalliance  with  the  Syrian  maids  ; 
To  wanton  meafures  dance  \  and  let  them  braid 
The  bright  luxuriance  of  thy  golden  hair  •, 
They,  for  their  loft  Adonis,  m.ay  miftake 
Thy  dainty  form. 

Dav.     Peace,  thou  unhallow'd  railer  ! 
O  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  nor  let  the  found 
Reach  Aikelon,  how  once  your  ilaughter'd  lofdz^ 
By  mighty  Sampfon  found  one  common  grave  : 
When  his  broad  fhoulder  the  firm  pillars  heav^d^ 
And  to  its  bafe  the  tott'ring  fabric  Ihookt 


28o         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

GoL     Infulting  boy  !  perhaps  thou  haft  not  heard 
The  infamy  of  that  inglorious  day, 
When  your  weak  hofts  at  Eben-ezer  pitch'd 
Their  quick- abandon'd  tents.     Then,  when  your  ark. 
Tour  talifman,  your  charm,  your  boafted  pledge 
Of  fafety  and  fuccefs,  was  tamely  loft  ! 
And  yet  not  tamely,  ftnce  by  me  'twas  won. 
When  with  this  good  right-arm,  I  thinn'd  your  ranks, 
And  bravely  crufli'd,  beneath  a  ftngle  blow. 
The  chofen  guardians  of  this  vaunted  flirine, 
Hophni  and  Phineas.     The  fam'd  ark  itfelf, 
\  bore  to  Afhdod. 

Dav.     I  remember  too, 
iSince  thou  provok'ft  th*  unwelcome  truth,  how  all 
Your  blufhing  priefts  beheld  their  idol's  fliame ; 
When  proftrate  Dagon  fell  before  the  ark. 
And  your  frail  god  was  fliiverM.     Then  Philiftia,' 
idolatrous  Philiftia  flew  for  fuccour 
To  Ifrael's  help,  and  all  her  fmitten  nobles 
Confefs'd  the  Lord  was  God,  and  the  bleft  ark, 
Gladly,  with  reverential  awe  reftor'd  ! 

GoL     By  Aflidod's  fane  thou  ly'ft.     Now  will  I  meet 
thee, 
Thou  infedl  warrior  !  ftnce  thou  dar'ft  me  thus  ! 
Already  I  behold  thy  maagled  limbs, 
Diftever'd  each  from  each,  ere  long  to  feed 
The  fierce,  blood-fnuffing  vulture.     Mark  me  well ! 
Around  my  fpear  I'll  twift  thy  fhining  locks, 
And  tofs  in  air  thy  head  all  gafti'd  with  wounds; 
Thy  lips,  yet  quiv'ring  with  the  dire  convulfion 
Of  recent  death  !   Art  thou  not  terrified  ? 

Dav.     No. 
True  courage  is  not  mov'd  by  breath  of  words  \ 
But  the  rafli  bravery  of  boiling  blood. 
Impetuous,  knows  no  fettled  principle. 
A  feveriOi  tide,  it  has  its  ebbs  and  flows, 
As  fpirits  rife  or  fall,  as  wine  inflames. 
Or  circumftances  change.     But  inborn  courage . 
The  gen'rous  child  of  Fortitude  and  Faith, 


1?HE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR .  28 1' 

Holds  its  jBrm  empire  ia  the  conftant  foui  j 
And,  like  the  ftedfafb  pole-ftar,  never  once 
From  the  fame  fix'd  and  faithful  point  declines. 

Got.     The  curfes  of  Philiftia's  Gods  be  on  thee  ■ 
This  fine-drawn  fpeech  is  meant  to  lengthen  out 
That  little  life  thy  words  pretend  to  fcorn. 

Dav.     Ha  !  fay'ft  thou  fo  ?   Come  on  then  !  Mark 
us  well. 
Thou  com'ft  to  me  with  fword,  and  fpear,  ana  fJileUIl 
In  the  dread  name  of  IfraeFs  God,  I  come ; 
The  living  Lord  of  Hofts,  whom  thou  defy'ft  ! 
Yet  though  no  fliield  I  bring  •,  no  arms,  except 
Thefe  five  fmooth  ftones  I  gather'd  from  the  brook^ 
With  fuch  a  fimple  fling  as  ihepherds  ufe  •, 
Yet  all  expos'd,  defencelefs  as  I  am, 
The  God  I  ferve  fhall  give  thee  up  a  prey 
To  my  victorious  arm.     This  day  I  mean 
To  make  th'  uncircumcifed  tribes  confefs 
There  is  a  God  in  Ifrael.     I  will  give  thee. 
Spite  of  thy  vaunted  flrength  and  giant  bulkj 
To  glut  the  carrion  kites.     Nor  thee  alone  j 
The  mangled  carcafes  of  your  thick  hqfts 
Shall  fpread  the  plains  of  Elah :  till  Philiftia, 
Through  all  her  trembling  tents  and  flying  bandsj 
Shall  own  that  Judah's  God  is  God  indeed  ! 
I  dare  thee  to  the  trial ! 

Gol.     Follow  me. 
Tn  this  good  fpear  I  trufl:. 

Dav.     I  trufl:  in  Heav'n  ! 
The  God  of  battles  fl:imulates  my  arm, 
And  fires  my  foul  v/ith  ardour,  not  its  olyn. 


An    Oration    on    the    Powers    of   Elo- 
quence,   WRITTEN    FOR     AN     EXHIBITION     OF     A 

School  in  Boston,   1791. 

AMIDST  the  profuflon  of  interefting  and  brillianfe 
obje(^s  in  this  afl^emblvjAioutd  the  fpe^ker  be  a^lc 
z  2  ' 


i82         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORAtO&. 

to  engage  the  attention  of  a  few  eyes,  and  a  few  ears,  he 
will  elleem  his  reception  flattering.  To  another  is  al- 
lotted the  plealing  talk  of  clofing  the  evening,  with  re- 
marks on  Female  Education.*  It  is  mine  to  recommend 
the  POWERS  OF  ELOQUENCE,  and  to  fliow  the 
infiuence  which  it  juftly  challenges,  over  the  fenfes, 
paOions,  and  underilandings  of  mankind. 

Eloquence  confiits  in  a  capacity  of  exprefling,  by  the 
voice,  attitude,  geilure,  and  countenance,  the  emotions 
of  the  heart.  To  this  art,  Demofthencs  and  Cicero 
owe  their  immortality;  by  this,  the  late  Earl  of  Chat- 
ham gained  his  celebrity;  and  to  this,  are  the  great  pol- 
iticians, now  in  Europe,  indebted  for  their  diftin^lion. 
Eloquent  men  begin  to  be  heard  with  attention  in  our 
Congrefs ;  pulpit  orators  gain  crowds,  and  eloquent 
lawyers  gain  caufes. 

When  the  enlightened  Statefman  is  difcufling  the 
intercfts  of  a  country,  on  Vv'hich  are  grafted  his  for- 
iiine,  fame,  and  life,  he  mujl  be  eloquent.  When  tlie 
general  liarangues  a  brave  foldicry,  at  the  eve  of  a  bat- 
tle, oil  which  depend  their  liberties  and  lives,  he  nv.ijl 
be  eloquent.  "When  the  compaffionate  lawyer,  Avitli«- 
out  hope  of  reward,  advocates  the  caufe  of  the  fuffei^ 
ing  widow,  or  injured  orphan,  he  mujl  be  eloquent. 

But  when  true  Eloquence  is  introduced  into  the  fir 
t:rcd  dilk,  how  elevated  is  the  fubje£l  of  the  pafilon  on 
the  crofs  !  With  what  animating  zeal  can  the  preacher 
call  on  his  hearers,  to  «*open  a  highway  for  their  God !" 
With  what  rapture  can  he  burft  from  the  gloom  of  types 
and  iigures,into  the  brightnefs  of  that  everlaftingGofpel 
w]\ich  brought  *<life  and  immortality  to  light  !"  With, 
what  heaven-taught  joy  can  he  hail  the  Star  in  the  Eaft  1 
-and  with  what  femblance  of  reality  may  he  lead  the 
imaginations  of  his  audience  to  a  fight  of  the  babe  ia 
the  manger  !  If  he  feel  fuch  fubjeifts,  he  muft  be  elo- 
quent and  irreliftible. 

May  we  now  look  back  and  trace  the  progrefs  and 
influence  of  eloquence  on  different  fubjedts,  and  at  \'!l- 

*  Sec  AirfcricaR  Preceptor,  p.  4^. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.         283 

rioiis  periods  ?  How  do  we  feel  its  power,  when  we 
hear  David  exprefling  the  appearing  of  the  Higheft  I 
*'  He  bowed  the  heavens  alfo,  and  came  down,  and 
darknefs  was  under  his  feet ;  he  rode  upon  a  cherub, 
and  did  fly,  and  he  was  fcQn  upon  the  wings  of  the 
wind." 

Who  can  hear,  without  emotion,  the  fublime  elo- 
quence of  the  prophet  Ifaiah,  when  he  announces  the 
future  glory  of  the  Church  ?  "  Violence  fhall  no  more 
be  heard  in  thy  land  ;  wafting  nor  deftrudtion  within 
thy  borders :  but  thou  fhalt  call  thy  walls  Salvation, 
and  thy  gates,  Praife." 

But  in  what  language  has  the  prophet  Habakkuk 
defcribed  the  majefty  of  the  Creator  ?  "  Before  him 
went  the  peftilence,  and  burning  coals  went  forth  at 
his  feet :  he  ftood,  and  meafured  the  earth  :  he  beheld, 
and  drove  afunder  the  nations  :  the  everlafting  moun- 
tains were  fcattered :  the  perpetual  hills  did  bow :  his 
ways  are  everlafting."  Let  us  pafs  in  refpe^lful  filence 
the  eloquence  of  him,  who  <*fpake,  as  never  man  fpake." 

But  our  attention  is  immediately  arrefted  by  the  de- 
fence of  Paul  before  Agrippa  ;  in  which  he  defcribes  a 
light  from  heaven,  above  the  brightnefs  of  the  mid-day 
fun  ;  when  he  declares  his  converfion,  and  commiffion 
to  be  a  minifter,  and  a  witnefs  of  thofe  things,  which 
he  had  feen,  and  of  thofe  things,  in  which  the  Saviour 
would  appear  unto  him.  <'  Whereupon,"  fays  he,  "O 
king  Agrippa,  I  was  not  difobedient  unto  the  heavenly 
vifion." 

Nor  can  we  fail  to  mention  that  eloquence,  which 
made  Felix  tremble  on  his  throne.  Nor  can  we  read, 
unmoved,  Paul's  folemn  account  of  the  refurreftion  ^ 
when,  "  In  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the 
dead  ihall  be  raifed,  and  we  fhall  be  changed."  But 
when  we  come  to  the  vifion  on  the  ifle  of  Patmos, 
where  the  glory  of  heaven  was  unveiled  to  a  man  of 
God,  we  are  loft  in  the  majefty  and  fublimity  of  the 
defcription  of  things,  which  muft  be  hereafter  ;  andt 
muft  clofe  the  facred  fcriptures,  convinced  of  the  ir^^g- 


284         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

iiftible  Powers  of  Eloquence,  when  employed  upon  di- 
vine fubje<Si:s. 

Among  themes  lefs  interefting,  Is  there  ofiCi  on  which 
thefe  powers  have  been  unfuccefsfully  employed  ?  We 
read  how  the  eloquence  of  one  man  governed  all  hearts 
in  Greece,  and  how  aftonilhing  was  its  effeiSl  from  the 
immortal  Orator  of  Rome.  All  civilized  nations  can 
furnifli  fa6ts  and  arguments  on  this  fubjefl.  Wherev- 
er arts  and  fciences  have  found  a  refidence,  oratory  has 
been  a  fure  attendant. 

I  am  obliged  to  pafs,  with  regret,  the  charadlers 
of  D'Efpremenil,  Mirabeau,  Burke,  Fox,  Flood,  and 
Grattan,  who  within  our  own  days,  have  made  the 
Senates  of  three  different  kingdoms  ring  with  theiT 
eloquence.  With  greater  reluctance  muft  I  pafs  the 
memorable  time,  when  all  the  fenfes,  pallions,  and  al- 
moft  breath  of  five  thoufand  people  were  fufpended  at 
the  admirable  eloquence  of  Sheridan,  while  he  defcrib- 
ed  the  cruelties  of  Haftings  on  the  banks  of  the  Gan* 
ges  J  when  with  unfeeling  madnefs  that  defpot  redden- 
ed the  waters  with  the  blood  of  mothers  and  their  in- 
fants, and  made  even  the  river  blullh  for  the  honor  of 
the  Britiih  name. 

With  pleafure  I  bring  my  fubjeCt  to  the  fcenes  of  my 
Hative  country  ,  and  here  could,  with  the  enthufiafm 
of  Columbus  in  his  vifion,  prefent  before  you  the  lofty 
Andes,  the  majeftic  Miffifippi,  the  beautiful  Ohio,  the 
falls  of  Niagara,  and  the  lakes  of  the  north.  I  mighfe 
«ake  a  view  of  this  country,  extending  through  the  five 
zones,  comprehending  all  the  climates,  and  producing 
all  the  varieties  of  the  earth. 

Our  ears  have  heard  what  wonders  have  beeit 
wrought  in  United  America.  Our  eyes  fee  its  pref- 
ent happy  iituation.  After  many  toils  and  convulfions^- 
we  at  length  find  ourfelves  fafe  on  the  top  of  Nebo> 
and  our  Mofes  yet  alive  at  the  head  of  our  rulers. 
Hence  we  look  forward  to  the  flattering  profpe<5ls  of 
futurity.  Our  orators  and  poets  have  announced  blefi- 
e<i  things  in  the  letter  days.    Our  prophets  )i^6 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  285 

taught  us  to  expert  the  reality  of  golden  dreams.  The 
leaves  of  our  future  hiftory  are  glided,  and  the  pages 
are  left  to  be  filled  up  with  the  actions  of  a  long  liil: 
of  unamh'itlous  Cefars. 

We  are  told,  that  on  this  our  native  fpot  of  earth, 
flavifh  government  and  flavlfh  hierarchies  fliall  ceafe ; 
that  here  the  old  prophecies  fhall  be  verified ;  that 
here  fliall  be  the  laft,  univerlal  empire  on  earth,  the 
empire  of  reafon  and  virtue  ;  under  which  the  gofpel' 
of  peace  fhall  have  free  courfe  and  be  glorified  ;  that 
here  "  the  wolf  fliall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the  leop- 
ard with  the  kid,  and  that  nation  fliall  no  more  lift  up 
fword  again  it  nation." 

When  the  philofopher  of  the  Eaft  forefaw  the  beau- 
ty and  excellence  of  this  Weftern  Continent,  its  im- 
menfe  rivers,  lakes,  and  mountains  ;  cities  rifing  from 
the  midft  of  defolation  ;  "  men  like  trees  walking," 
where  once  were  the  haunts  of  favage  beafts  ;  arts  and 
manners  improving  ;  the  rofe  budding  in  the  defert, 
and  the  flowers  of  the  garden  in  the  folitary  place,  rich, 
indeed  was  the  profpe^.  But  his  vifions  have  become 
our  realities.  We  live  to  enjoy  bleflings,  more  numer- 
ous than  Columbus  could  count. 

We  fee  fchools,  academies,  and  colleges,  opening 
their  treafures  to  every  family ;  and  are  taught,  that 
religion,  liberty,  and  fcience,  are  conftellations  in  the 
heavens,  which,  amidft  the  revolution  of  empires,  vifit, 
in  fucceflion,  all  the  kingdoms  and  people  of  the  earth. 
We  fee  one  half  of  the  world  involved  in  darknefs, 
and  oblivious  fleep ;  while  the  other  is  enjoying  the 
blellings  of  day,  and  of  vigilant  induftry. 

The  day  of  American  glory  has  at  length  dawned. 
No  more  fhall  meteors  of  the  air,  and  infedls  with  gild- 
ed wings,  lead  aflray  the  benighted  traveller,  nor  the 
bleaking  buzzards  of  the  night  triumph  over  the  bird 
of  Jove.  Prejudice,  ignorance,  and  tyranny,  are  fly- 
ing on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  While  this  day  is 
ours,  let  us  be  up  and  doing,.  ^ 


286         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

May  I  now  introduce  my  fubjeiSt  within  thefe  walls  ? 
And  here,  how  extenfive  is  the  theme  for  my  feeble 
powers  of  eloquence  !  yet  may  I  employ  them,  in  fug- 
gefting  the  motives  which  your  Tons  and  daughters  have 
to  cultivate  their  minds.  Gratitude  to  their  parents  ; 
your  patronage  *,  their  own  ambition  •,  their  profpe<Sls 
of  future  profit,  ufefulnefs,  and  honeft  fame,  are  among 
the  firft. 

But  highly  important  is  rendered  this  morning  of 
life  and  privilege  to  us,  from  a  ccnfideration,  that  we 
are  born  in  the  beft  of  countries,  at  the  beft  of  times. 
While  foine  of  the  human  race  are  fuffering  the  ex- 
treme heats  of  burning  zones,  and  others  are  freezing 
beyond  the  influence  of  benignant  rays,  we  live  in  a 
climate,  tem^perate,  falubricus,  and  healthful.  While 
fome  inherit  from  their  parents  poverty  and  flavery, 
we  are  the  heirs  of  private,  public,  and  focial  benefits* 

Our  eyes  have  been  opened  in  a  country,  where  the 
Father  of  mercies  has  been  pleafed  to  condenfe  his  bleff- 
ings.  On  us  beams  the  fun  of  Science  :  ours  is  the 
hemifphei^  of  freedom  :  here  are  enjoyed  THE 
RIGHTS  OF  MAN  ;  and  upon  us  fhine,  with  ceafelefs 
fplendour,  the  rays  of  the  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

Bleft  in  the  difpenfations  of  nature,  providence,  and 
grace,  on  us  depends  a  faithful  improvement  of  our  nu- 
merous talents.  Early  taught  the  Ihortnefs  and  value 
of  life,  and  the  importance  of  improving  each  hour  of 
youth  while  we  have  leifure,  and  the  affiftance  of  in* 
flru6lors,  we  early  learn  to  be  diligent.  Obferving, 
that  with  our  parents,  the  fhadows  of  the  evening  be- 
gin to  lengthen,  and  that  foon  the  wheel  will  ceafe  to 
turn  round  at  the  ciftern  :  that  foon  they  muft  leave  us, 
and  that  we  muft  fill  their  places,  we  learn  to  be  am- 
bitious and  emulous  to  excel.  But  beyond  thefe,  we 
liave,  with  all  other  children  of  the  univerfe,  an  argu- 
ment ftill  higher  to  improve  thefe  precious  days.'  We 
live  not  only  for  ourfelves,  for  our  parents,  friends,  and 
country  ;  but  for  the  Giver  of  life  :  we  live  for  immor- 
tllity.     Young  as  we  are,  and  juil;  entered  the  bark  of 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  287 

being ;  yet  like  you,  we  are  on  a  boundlefs  ocean, 
and  an  eternal  voyage. 

As  ELOQUENCE  is  my  theme,  perhaps  I  may  be 
indulged  in  dwelling  for  a  few  remaining  moments, 
on  this  laft  moft  interefting  fubje<St.  While  enjoying 
rhe  bleiiings  of  health,  and  the  feftivities  of  youth,  we 
fund  on  this  bridge  of  life,  carelefs  of  the  rapid  cur- 
rents of  yefterdays  and  to-morrows  ;  yet  refleftion 
teaches  that  the  hour  is  rapidly  haftening,  when  "  the 
cloud-capt  towers  ;  the  gorgeous  palaces  ;  the  folemn 
temples ;  yea,  the  great  globe  itfelf,  with  all  which  it 
inherits,  fhall  diflblve,  and  like  the  bafelefs  fabric  of  a 
vifion,  leave  not  a  wreck  behind."  We  fhall  furvive. 
Though  the  lofs  of  parents  and  friends  *,  though  the 
frequent  infirmities  and  viciffitudes  of  life,  teach  us 
gloomily  to  refleiSl,  that  *^  An  angel's  arm  can't  fnatch 
us  from  the  grave  •,"  yet  a  fure  profpe£l:  of  a  refurrec- 
tion  to  ceafelefs  life,  bids  us  fay  with  triumph,  «<  Legions 
of  angels  can't  confine  us  there."  We  look  back  on 
the  ages  which  have  pafied,  and  fee  the  millions  of  men, 
who,  fince  the  days  of  Adam,  have  been  laid  in  the 
duft.  We  fee  nine  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  ra-s- 
tional  beings,  now  in  full  life,  who  muft,  in  a  few  years, 
be  cold  and  in  death  ;  and  in  every  day  of  our  lives, 
no  lefs  than  eighty-fix  thoufand  of  the  human  race, 
are  laid  in  the  grave.  What  oceans  of  tears  have  been 
ihed  by  furviving  friends  ! 

How  have  mourning  and  lamentation,  and  woe  been 
heard  not  only  in  Rama,  but  throughout  every  quar- 
ter of  the  inhabited  earth  !  We  contemplate  the  time, 
when  thefe  bodies  of  ours,  now  full  of  life  and  motion, 
fliall  be  cold.  We  elevate  our  thoughts  to  that  fcene, 
when  the  elements  fhall  melt  with  fervent  heat ;  when 
the  fun  fliall  be  darkened,  and  the  moon  no  more  give 
light :  when  the  flars  of  heaven  fhall  fall  from  their 
places,  and  all  nature  be  tumbling  into  ruins. 

Then  the  trump  of  God  fhall  found ;  then  fhall  he, 
who  once  faid,  "Lazarus,  come  forth,"  defcend 
from  heaven,  with  a  mighty  fhout.     Then,  fhall  the 


288  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

dead  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  then  fliall  they 
burft  the  bands  of  death,  and  rife,  never  to  fleep  again. 
Then  Ihall  this  mortal  put  on  immortality,  and  death 
be  fwallowed  up  of  life. 

"We  fliall  be  prefent  at  this  auguft  refurre£lion  I  Soon 
fhall  we  ceafe  to  fee  the  bkie  canopy  of  the  day,  and 
the  ftarred  curtain  of  the  night ;  to  hear  the  rolling 
of  the  thunder,  or  fee  the  lightning  of  the  heavens  ; 
fccnes,  which  now  imprefs  us  with  awe  and  delight. 
We  look  round  creation,  and  fee  all  living  nature,  be- 
low our  rank,  diiTolving  to  duft  ;  never  to  revive.  We 
fee  the  flowers  of  fpring  die,  and  the  leaves  of  autumn 
fade  J  never  to  refume  their  beauty  and  verdure.  But 
contemplating  the  foul  of  man,  we  are  led  to  the  Ian* 
guage  of  the  poet, 

"  See  truth,  love,  and  mercy  in  triumph  defcending, 
And  nature  all  glowing  in  Eden's  firft  bloom  ; 

On  the  cold  cheek  of  death  fmiles  and  rofes  are  blending, 
And  beauty  immortal  awakes  from  the  tomb." 

This  fubjefl:,  itfelf  fo  full  of  Eloquence,  is  alfo  full  of 
inftru<ftion  and  argument.  Whatever  elevates  the  dig- 
nity of  our  natures,  and  extends  our  views,  teaches  us 
to  live  ;  daily  to  improve  our  minds  ;  daily  to  better 
our  hearts.  May  ELOQUENCE  ever  be  improved  in 
the  caufe  of  learning  and  virtue  ;  ever  employed  in  ad- 
dreffing  important  truths  to  the  mind,  in  a  moft  forci- 
ble and  expreffive  manner. 

May  the  daughters  of  America  wear  their  charms, 
as  attendants  on  their  virtue,  the  fatellites  of  their  in- 
nocence, and  the  ornament  of  their  fex.  May  her 
fons  early  learn  the  principles  of  honor,  honefty,  dili- 
gence, and  patriotifm  5  and  when  called  to  leave  thefe 
happy  feats,  where  care  is  a  ftranger,  and  where  learn- 
ing is  a  free  gift,  be  prepared  for  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day,  and  ever  prove  as  a  munition  of  rocks  to 
their  country. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  289 

A  Dialogue  between  a  City  Gentleman 
OF  THE  Ton,  and  a  Country  Farmer. 

Genf/eman  TJ  ^^^^^'  ^^e^^' ^^^^^^  •'  What  have 
eman.  ^  J_  you  got  in  your  wallet  ? 

Farmer.     Fowls,  Sir,  at  your  lervice. 

Gent.     And  what  do  you  alk  a  pair  ? 

Farm.  Fifty  cents  a  pair  for  ducks,  and  feventy- 
five  cents  apiece  for  geefe  and  turkeys. 

Gent.  "What  is  the  fellow  talking  about  ?  I  inquir- 
ed the  price  of  fowls  ;  not  of  geefe  and  turkeys. 

Far7n.  And  pray.  Miller,  what  is  the  difference 
between  a  fowl  and  a  goofe  ?  My  bible  teaches  me, 
that  all  the  feathered  tribe  are  ranged  under  the  gen« 
eral  name  of  fowl. 

Gefit.  Why,  you  numfliull !  don't  quote  fcripture 
to  me,  to  prove  fuch  palpable  abfurdities.  I  can  teach 
you,  that  a  goofe,  or  turkey,  is  no  more  like  a  fowl, 
than  a  human  being  is  like  one  of  the  animal  creation  ! 

Farm.  I  crave  your  pardon,  Miftcr.  I  begin  to 
fee  that  I  never  was  larnM  the  right  ufe  of  language  \ 
for,  fince  I  come  among  thefe  fine  gentlefolks,  I  don't 
underftand  one  half  that's  faid  to  me. 

Gejit.  So  it  feems.  However,  you  have  now  en- 
tered a  good  fchool  to  learn  cw'dixatlon.^  What  I 
wanted,  was,  a  pair  of  thofe  creatchures  that  lay  eggs, 
wulgarly  called  hens. 

Farm.  Why,  begging  your  pardon,  Sir,  and  ho- 
ping no  offence,  I  fliouid  fuppofe,  that,  at  leaft,  o?ic  of 
the  forts  1  have  in  my  wallet  lays  eggs,  from  the  mul- 
titude oi  gojllns  I  fee  about  your  ftreets. 

Gent.  Why,  you  fool ;  where  were  you  bred  ?  I 
Ihould  imagine  you  come  fifty  miles  ofF,  where  they 
tell  me  the  people  are  almoft  favages ;  and  that  you 
were  never  in  market  before. 

Farm.  It  is  true,  I  live  more  than  fifty  miles  off, 
^nd  never  was  in  this  great  city  before ;  and  in  fadl,  I 
Aa 


290  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

begin  to  think  I  never  {hall  delire  to  be  again ;  for  I 
have  hitherto  met  with  pretty  rough  handling,  I  aflure 
you. 

Gent.  No  wonder  that  fuch  ignorance  fhould  ex- 
pofe  you  to  infults.  A  man  like  you,  who  has  been 
brung  up  among  favages,  and  not  able  to  fpeak  intel- 
ligibly, muft  expciSl  to  receive  fevere  difcipline,  when 
he  tirft  vilits  a  land  of  civilization. 

Farm.  I  begin  to  fee  what  a  fad  thing  it  is,  efpe- 
cially  in  fuch  a  place  as  this,  to  be  fo  deftitute  as  I  am 
of  the  right  kind  of  larning.  I  confefs,  that,  fo  far 
from  civ'tll'z.ation^  I  have  never  received  but  little  more 
than  chriflianization.  But  I  fhould  think,  even  that 
ought  to  entitle  an  honeft,  Vv'ell-meaning  man  to  bet- 
ter treatment  than  I  have  met  with  this  morning. 

Gent.  You  have  no  right  to  complain.  Such  a 
blundering  blockhead  as  you  are  ought  to  think  him- 
felff  orchunate,  if  he  is  fuffered  to  pafs  the  ftrects  with- 
out having  his  head  broke. 

Farm.  Indeed,  I  have  hardly  efcaped  that.  I  have 
been  accofted  a  hundred  and  fifty  times  fince  I  entered 
the  big  town,  by  all  forts  and  fizes  of  folks,  both  male 
and  female.  Which,  at  firft,  indeed,  appeared  civil 
enough ;  for  not  a  child  in  the  flreet  but  what  maf- 
ter\i  me,  as  mannerly  as  though  I  had  teach'd  fchool 
ail  my  days.  But  whenever  I  approached  them,  it 
was  old  daddy,  old  man,  old  fellow,  and  fo  on ;  rifing 
bv  degrees  to  fiich  genteel  language  as  your  Worfhip 
feems  to  be  mafler  of.  I  hope  no  offence.  Sir.  The 
firft  time  I  had  the  honor  to  be  noticed,  a  fine  gentle- 
woman called  to  me  from  her  window.  So  I  civilly 
entered  her  door ;  when  flie  fqualled  out,  "  You  filthy 
brute  !  Have  you  the  impudence  to  come  in  at  my 
front  door  ?"  Did  you  not  call  me,  madam  ?  replied  I. 
Yes,  truly,  fays  fhe  j  but  I  thought  you  had  more  civ- 
Uization^  than  to  fet  your  ugly,  fquare-toed  fhoes  upon 
my  carpet.  I  craved  her  ladyfhip's  pardon  j  told  her 
I  hoped  I  fliould  learn  civilization  from  fuch  good  ex- 
ample ;  and  gor  off  as  well  as  I  could. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  291 

Gefii.     It  is  evident  you  know  nothing  of  the  world. 

Farm.  How  lliould  I,  iii\CQ  I  live  a  hundred  miles 
off,  and  never  read  fcarcely  any  thing  but  my  bible  and 
pfalm  book  ? 

Gent.  Aye,  fure  enough.  You  are  much  to  be  pit- 
ied. Why,  according  to  the  rules  of  civilizationy  you 
offended  the  lady  infufferably. 

Farm.  So  I  perceive  ;  though,  at  firft,  I  could  not 
conceive,  for  the  life  of  me,  what  harm  there  could  b*:* 
in  entering  the  front  door,  lince  there  was  no  other  in 
the  houfe  \  nor  how  my  flioes  could  give  offence,  inal- 
much  as  they  were  perfectly  clean. 

GtmL  AVhy,  did  you  not  juil  acknowledge  they 
were  unfailiioiiablc  ^ 

Farm.  Aye,  right.  And  mayhap  fiie  difcovered 
the  nails  in  the  heels ;  though  I  could  have  affurecl 
her  they  would  not  fcratch  -,  for  they  were  well  drove, 
and  the  heads  fmooth.  Well,  as  I  was  faying,  foon 
after  I  efcaped  from  her  ladyfhip's  civilities,  I  was  flop- 
ped by  a  'Squire-looking  gentleman,  whofe  palate  was 
fet  for  the  fame  dainty  that  yours  was,  fowls.  I  told 
him  I  had  as  fine  ones  as  ever  were  hatched.  So  I 
fhowed  him  the  whole  contents  of  my  wallet ;  w^ien, 
after  examining  it  critically,  he  exclaimed,  "  You  in- 
fulting  puppy  !  I  have  a  mind  in  my  confcience  to  cane 
you.  What,  firrah  !  tell  me  you  have  fowls  to  fcilj 
when  you  have  nothing  but  a  parcel  of  poultry  !"  So, 
giving  me  a  kick  or  two,  he  tells  me  to  go  and  learn 
civilization. 

Gent.     And  ferved  you  right  enough  too. 

Farm.  So  as  I  proceeded  peaceably  through  the 
ftreet,  I  met  a  ftripling,  in  his  foldier's  coat,  making 
the  fame  ufe  of  his  fword  as  I  did  of  my  flaff*.  Hav- 
ing a  heavy  load,  and  tripping  my  foot  a  little,  I  unfor- 
tunately joftled  this  beardlefs  hero.  "  What  do  you 
mean,  you  dirty  fcoundrel !"  he  inftantly  exclaimed  ; 
lifting  up  his  fword  at  the  fame  time.  "  Have  you  no 
more  civilization  than  to  treat  an  officer  of  the  navy  in 
fuch  a  rude  manner  ?"  I  beg  pardon,  fays  I.     It  Xas 


2p2         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

purely  an  accident.  If  yon  were  not  beneath  my  na- 
tice,  fays  he,  fwearing  a  big  oath,  which  I  dare  not  re- 
peat;  if  you  were  not  beneath  the  notice  of  a  gentle- 
man, I  fay,  I  would  foon  lay  you  upon  your  beam  ends, 
you  frefh  water  lobfter  !  You  are  as  deftitute  of  civili' 
zatiofiy  as  if  you  had  never  been  out  of  iight  of  land  in 
all  your  life. 

Gent.  You  will  learn  in  time  to  keep  at  a  refpeclful 
diftance  from  gentlemen  of  the  fword.  It  is  fortchu- 
nate  for  you  that  the  officer  did  not  make  day-light 
ihine  through  you. 

Farm,  I  believe  it  dangerous,  I  confefs,  to  venture 
very  near  gentlemen^  if  thefe  may  be  called  fuch.  Well, 
the  next  perfon  I  met,  I  took,  from  his  brogue,  to  be 
a  "  wild  Irifhman."  At  any  rate,  he  was  a  funny  fel- 
low, and  difcovered  fome  marks  of  civilization.  Maif- 
ter,  fays  he,  have  you  any  wery  good  weal  in  your  val- 
et ?  I  do  not  underftand  Irifh,  Mifter,  replied  I.  Iriflil 
Irifh  !  old  mutton-head,  faid  he  ;  nor  I  neither.  It  is 
enough  for  me  that  I  am  able  to  fpeak  good  Engliih. 
I  ax'd  you  what  you  had  to  fell.  I  am  fitting  out  a 
v/eiTel  for  Wenice ;  loading  her  with  warious  keinds 
of  prowilions,  and  wittualling  her  for  a  long  woyage  ; 
and  I  want  feveral  undred  weight  of  weal,  wenifon, 
&c.  with  a  plenty  of  inyons  and  winegar,  for  the  pref- 
erwation  of  ealth.  I  affured  him  I  did  not  compre- 
}iend  his  meaning.  It  is  wery  natchural,  replied  he, 
to  fuppoie  it,  as  you  are  but  a  poor  countryman  and 
want  civilization.  So  he  peaceably  withdrew.  And 
now,  good  Miller,  (^Squire,  perhaps  I  ought  to  fayj 
for,  before  you  flopped  me,  I  heard  you  adminiftering 
oaths  ;)  I  (Aji  good  'Squire,  as  you  have  condefcend- 
ed  to  give  me  fome  ufeful  inftrudlion,  pray  be  fo  kind 
as  to  tell  me,  to  what  fpecies  of  animals  a  creature 
would  belong,  which  (hould  be,  in  every  refpeft,  ex- 
aflly  like  yourfelf,  excepting  the  addition  of  a  pair  of 
long  ears  ? 

Gent.  I  will  not  difgrace  myfelf  by  keeping  your 
company  any  longer.     {^Exit.~\ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  293 

Fnrm.  \_alo7te.']  What  a  ftrange  run  of  luck  I  have, 
had  to-day  !  If  this  is  civili^atiofj,  I  defire  to  return 
to  my  favage  haunt  again.  However,  I  don't  defpair 
yet  of  meeting  with  people  of  real  civilization  ;  for  I 
have  always  been  told  that  this  place  is  not  without 
Its  fhare.  Yet  I  fear  they  have  greatly  degenerated 
from  the  iimple  manners  of  their  forefathers.  Their 
placing  mere  civility  above  Chriftianity  is  a  plain  proof 
of  it.  The  anceftors  of  this  people  were  anxious  main- 
ly to  teach  their  pofterity  Chriftianity,  not  doubting 
but  civility  would  naturally  attend  it.  What  vexes 
me  moft  is,  that  I  can't  underftand  their  language. 
For  my  part,  I  think  they  have  but  little  reafon  to 
laugh  at  my  pronunciation.  This  is  the  firll  time  I 
ever  halrd  that  turkeys,  geefe,  and  ducks  were  not 
fowls.  They  might  as  well  tell  me,  that  oxen,  bulls, 
and  cows  are  not  cattle.  I  take  this  laft  chap  to  be  of 
the  race  of  coxcombs ;  and  I  think  it  is  fometimes  beft, 
to  indulge  them  in  their  own  exalted  opinion  of  them- 
felves,  till  experience  teaches  them  their  folly.  I  know 
I  am  but  a  plain  man  ;  and  no  one  feels  the  want  of 
larning  more  than  I  do.  But  I  am  certain  I  cannot 
appear  more  contemptible  in  this  coxcomb's  eyes,  than 
he  does  in  mine. 


Extract  from  a  Discourse  delivered  be- 
fore THE  New-York  Society  for  promoting 
THE  Manumission  of  Slaves,  April  12,  1797.. 
By  Rev.  Samuel  Miller, 

1HAVE  hitherto  confined  myfelf  to  the  confidera- 
tion  of  flavery  as  it  exifts  among  ourfelves,  and  of 
that  unjuft  domination  which  is  exercifed  over  the  Af- 
ricans-and  their  defcendants,  who  are  already  in  our 
country.  It  is  with  a  regret  and  indignation  which  I 
am  unable  to  exprefs,  that  I  call  your  attention  to  the 
condufl:  of  fome  among  us,  who,  inftead  of  diminifh- 
ing,  ftrive  to  increafe  the  evil  in  queftion. 
Aa  2 


294         THE  COLUMBlAlSi  ORAfOH. 

^  While  the  friends  of  humanity,  in  Europe  and  Ame» 
rica,  are  weeping  over  their  injured  fellow-creatures, 
and  direfling  their  ingenuity  and  their  labours  to  the 
removal  of  fo  difgraceful  a  monument  of  cruelty  and 
avarice,  there  are  not  wanting  men,  who  claim  the  ti^ 
tie, .and  enjoy  the  privileges  of  American  citizens,  who 
l^ill  employ  themfelves  in  the  odious  traffic  of  human 
flefii. 

Yes,  in  direcl  oppofition  to  public  fentiment,  and  a 
law  of  the  land,  there  are  fliips  fitted  out,  every  year, 
in  the  ports  of  the  United  States,  to  tranfport  the  in- 
i^abitants  of  Africa,  from  their  native  fliores,  and  con- 
fign  them  to  all  the  torments  of  Weft-India  oppreflion. 

Fellow-citizens  !  is  Juftice  afleep  ?  Is  Humanity  dif- 
couraged  and  iilent,  on  account  of  the  many  injuries 
ihe  has  fuftained  ?  Were  not  this  the  cafe,  methinks 
the  purfult  of  the  beafts  of  the  foreft  would  be  forgot- 
ten, and  fuch  monfters  of  wickednefs  would,  in  their 
ftead,  be  hunted  from  the  abodes  of  men. 

Oh  Africa  !  unhappy,  ill-fated  region  I  how  long 
iliall  thy  favage  inhabitants  have  reafon  to  utter  com- 
plaints, and  to  imprecate  the  vengeance  of  Heaven 
againft  civilization  and  Chriftianity  ?  Is  it  not  enough 
that  nature's  God  has  configned  thee  to  arid  plains,  to 
noxious  vapours,  to  devouring  beafts  of  prey,  and  to  all 
the  fcorching  influences  of  the  torrid  zone  ?  Muft  rap- 
ine and  violence,  captivity  and  flavery,  be  fuperadded 
to  thy  torments;  and  be  inflidled  too  by  men,  who 
wear  the  garb  of  juftice  and  humanity  j  who  boaft  the 
principles  of  a  fublime  morality ;  and  who  hypocrit- 
ically adopt  the  accents  of  the  benevolent  religion  of 
Jefus  ? 

Oh  Africa  !  thou  loud  proclaimer  of  the  rapacity, 
the  treachery,  and  cruelty  of  civihzed  man  I  Thou  ev- 
erlafting  monument  of  European  and  American  dif- 
grace  !  "  Remember  not  againft  us  our  offences,  nor 
the  offences  of  our  forefathers  ;  be  tender  in  the  great 
day  of  inquiry  ;  and  fhow  a  Chriftian  world,  that  thx>w 
can  fuffer,  and  forgive  !" 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  295 

A  Forensic  Dispute,  on  the  Question, 
Are  the  Anglo-Americans  endowed  with 
Capacity  and  Genius  equal  to  Europeans  ? 

.  TV  /r^  opinion  is  decidedly  on  the  affirmative 
^[^J^  of  this  queflion.  In  this  opinion  I  am  con- 
firmed by  Ibund  argument  and  undeniable  fadls. 

If  nature  has  lavifhed  her  favours  on  fome  countries, 
and  dealt  them  out  with  a  fparing  hand  in  others,  the 
Weftern  world  is  far  from  being  the  fcene  of  her  par- 
fimony.  From  a  geographical  furvey  of  our  country, 
directly  the  reverfe  will  appear. 

This  continent,  extending  through  all  the  different 

climates  of  the  earth,  exhibiting  on  its  immenle  furface 

the  largeft  rivers  and  lakes,  and  the  loftieft  mountains 

.in  the  known  world,  {hows  us  that  nature  has  wrought 

on  her  largeft  fcale  on  this  fide  the  Atlantic. 

Tiie  foil  is  neither  fo  luxuriant  as  to  indulge  in 
floth,  nor  fo  barren,  as  not  to  afford  fufficient  leifure 
from  its  own  culture,  to  attend  to  that  of  the  mind. 
Thefe  are  fa<fts,  which  exifted  before  the  migration  of 
oiir  anceftors  from  Europe.  The  argument  I  fhall  de- 
duce from  them,  to  me  appears  conclulive. 

The  foil  and  climate  of  every  country  is  in  fome 
meafure  chara(n:eriftic  of  the  genius  of  its  inhabitants. 
Nature  is  uniform  in  her  works.  Where  flie  has  ftint- 
ed  the  produ<Stions  of  the  earth,  fhe  alfo  cramps  her  an- 
imal productions  ;  and  even  the  mind  of  man.  Where 
flie  has  clothed  the  earth  with  plenty,  there  is  no  de- 
ficiency in  the  animate  creation  ;  and  man  arrives  to 
his  full  vigour. 

In  the  application  of  thefe  phyfical  caufes  to  our  na- 
ture, there  is  an  effect  produced  on  the  mind,  as  well 
as  the  body.  The  mind  receives  its  tindture  from  the 
objedls  which  it  contemplates.  This  we  find  confirm- 
ed by  the  oppofite  fenfations  we  feel,  when  viewing  a 
beautiful  and  variegated  landfcape,  and  plodding  our 


296         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

courfe  over  a  craggy  way,  or  uniform,  barren  plain. 
In  thefe  contrafted  fituations,  it  may  almoft  be  faid, 
that  we  pofTefs  two  different  fouls,  and  are  not  the 
fame  beings. 

Thofe  objedls,  which  conftantly  furround  us,  muft 
have  a  more  permanent  effect.  Where  man  is  doomed 
conftantly  to  view  the  imperfect  fkctches  and  carica- 
ture paintings  of  nature,  he  forms  a  correfponding  part 
of  the  group  ;  when  placed  amidft  her  moft  beautiful 
and  magnificent  works,  we  find  him  elevated  in  thought 
and  complete  in  corporeal  ftature. 

Thefe  arguments  may  feem  far-fetched  ;  but  when 
it  is  admitted  that  Chimborazo  is  higher  than  Tene- 
riffe  *,  the  Amazon  and  La  Plata  fuperiour  to  the  largeft 
rivers  in  the  old  world ;  and  that  America  abounds 
with  all  the  produ6lions  of  nature  in  as  great  plenty  as 
any  country  in  Europe,  premifes  will  then  be  eftab- 
lifhed,  from  which,  by  my  reafoning,  we  fliall  draw 
the  conclufion,  that  if  the  Aborigines  of  this  country 
are  inferiour  to  the  favages  of  other  parts  of  the  world, 
nature  muft  have  contradicted  her  own  firft  principles. 

But  the  contrary  muft  appear  to  every  unprejudiced 
mind,  both  from  reafon  and  obfervation.  It  being 
granted  that  the  favages  on  this  continent  poffefs  ge- 
nius and  capacity,  equal  to  thofe  on  the  other,  my  ar- 
gument is  ended ;  the  affirmative  of  the  queftion  is 
eftablifhed  -,  unlefs  thofe  who  differ  from  me  fhould  be 
able  to  fhow,  that,  by  fome  procefs,  or  rather  paradox 
of  nature,  the  mental  powers  of  our  forefathers  were 
degenerated  by  being  tranfplanted  to  a  foil,  at  leaft, 
as  congenial  and  fertile  as  that  which  gave  them  birth. 

Should  it  be  any  longer  contended  againft  me,  I 
fliould  ftill  appeal  to  fadts,  and  rely  on  the  philofophi- 
cal  difcoverics  and  mifcellaneous  writings  of  a  Franklin, 
the  heroic  valour  and  fagacious  prudence  of  a  Wafh- 
ington,  the  political  refearches  of  an  Adams,  the  nu- 
merous productions  in  polite  literature,  inventions  and 
improvements  in  the  ufeful  arts  ;  and  efpecially  that 
fpirit  of  enterprizc;  which  diftinguiflies  pur  natipn» 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


297 


On  thefe  I  fliould  rely  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  my 
country,  and  to  combat  that  prejudice,  which  would 
degrade  the  capacity  and  genius  of  Americans. 

B,  I  have  heard  your  argument  with  patience,  and 
fhall  anfwer  it  with  candour.  It  is  readily  granted,  that 
there  are  as  large  rivers,  exteniive  lakes,  and  lofty 
mountains,  in  America,  as  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world  ;  but  I  am  totally  unacquainted  with  the  art  of 
meafuring  the  capacity  and  genius  of  men,  by  the 
height  of  the  mountains  they  gaze  upon,  or  the  breadth 
of  the  river,  whofe  margin  they  chance  to  inhabit. 

Whether  the  favages  of  our  deferts  poflefs  mental 
powers  equal  to  thofe  of  other  countries,  is  as  foreign 
to  my  purpofe,  as  the  Chimborazo,  Amazon,  or  La 
Plata.  I  fhall  admit  your  premifes,  and  look  for  the 
materials  of  my  argument  on  a  ground  you  have  flight- 
ly  pafTed  over,  to  confute  the  conclufion  you  have 
drawn  from  them. 

The  qucftion  is,  whether  the  capacity  and  genius  of 
Americans  is  equal  to  that  of  Europeans  ? 

Let  us  adopt  an  unexceptionable  rule  ;  "  Judge  th« 
tree  by  its  fruit."  If  the  literary  productions  and 
works  of  genius  of  our  countrymen  are  found  fuperiour 
to  thofe  of  Europeans,  the  affirmative  of  the  queftion 
muft  be  true  ;  if  inferiour,  the  negative,  without  argu- 
ment, is  fupported  by  faCl. 

Here  the  balance  evidently  turns  in  my  favour. 
Europe  can  boafl:  its  mafters  in  each  of  the  fciences,  and 
its  models  of  perfeCiion  in  the  polite  arts.  Few  Amer- 
icans purfue  the  path  of  fcience ;  none  have  progrefP. 
ed,  even  fo  far  as  thofe  bold  and  perfevering  geniufes 
of  other  countries,  who  have  removed  the  obftacles 
and  fmoothed  the  way  before  them. 

If  there  chance  to  fpring  up  among  us  one  whofe  in- 
clination attaches  him  to  the  fine  arts,  the  beggar's  pit- 
tance, inftead  of  fame  and  profit,  becomes  his  portion. 
He  is  an  exotic  plant,that  muft  be  removed  to  fom.e  more 
congenial  foil,  or  perifh  at  home  for  want  of  culture. 
It  is  far  from  m^  intentions  to  fay  any  thin^  ir^ 


29S  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

derogation  of  thofe  refpe6lable  chara<fters,  on  whom 
you  rely  to  vindicate  the  literary  honor  of  our  coun- 
try. But  what  will  be  the  refult  of  a  comparifon  be- 
tween a  few  correct:  authors,  ihe  mircellaneous  pro- 
ductions, and  cafual  difcoveries,  which  we  boafl  of  as 
our  own,  within  a  century  pafi: ;  and  the  long  and 
brilliant  catalogue  of  profound  fcholars,  celebrated 
writers,  and  thofe  exquifite  fpecimens  of  tafie  and  ge- 
nius in  the  fine  arts,  which  have  adorned  almoft  every 
country  of  Europe,  within  the  fame  period  ? 

This  comparifon  would  be  difgraceful  indeed  to 
America.  It  is  granted,  that  her  Ions  are  induiirious, 
brave,  and  enterprizing  ♦,  but,  if  prudent,  they  will  cer- 
tainly decline  the  contefl  with  moft  European  nations, 
when  the  palm  of  genius  is  the  objedl  of  difpute. 

C  Different  climates  undoubtedly  have  a  different 
effe£l  on  the  bodies  and  minds  of  thofe  who  inhabit 
them  ;  and  local  caufes,  in  the  fame  climate,  may  be 
favourable,  or  adverfe  to  the  intelleClual  powers. 

A  pure,  temperate  atmofphere,  and  romantic  fcene- 
ry,  are  produClive  of  clear  intellects  and  brilliant  imagi- 
nation. America  is  far  from  being  deficient  in  thefe 
advantages.  The  oratory,  councils,  and  fagacity  of 
its  natives,  prove  that  their  conceptions  are  by  no  means 
cramped  by  phyfical  caufes. 

This  being  granted,  vvhicli  cannot  be  denied,  it  will 
be  extremely  difficult  to  fhow  a  reafon,  why  the  men- 
tal powers  of  our  anceftors,  or  their  defcendants,  fhould 
fufFer  a  decay  in  this  country,  fo  favourable  by  nature 
to  found  judgment  and  brilliancy  of  thought. 

Inftead  of  forcing  ourfelves  into  fuch  an  abfurd  con- 
cluiion,  we  fliall  make  an  obvious  diftinCtion,  which 
will  lead  to  a  conclulion,  not  derogatory  to  the  Amer- 
ican character  ;  a  diftincHon  between  natural  genius, 
and  its  improvement  by  art.  One  depends  on  natural 
caufes ',  the  other,  on  the  flate  of  fociety. 

With  a  well  fupported  claim  to  the  former,  it  is  no 
difhonor  to  acknowledge  ourfelves  inferiour  to  the  elder 
nations  of  Europe  in  the  latter.     Confidering  the  in- 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


299 


fant  ftate  of  our  country,  and  the  nature  of  our  gov- 
ernment, we  have  more  reafon  to  boaft,  than  be  afhamed 
of  our  progrefs  in  the  fine  arts. 

If  not  equal  in  this  refpeiH:,  to  our  mother  country, 
we  have  made  more  rapid  improvement  than  any  other 
nation  in  the  world.  Our  government  and  habits  are 
republican  ;  they  cherilh  equal  rights  and  tend  to  an 
equal  diftribution  of  property.  Our  mode  of  education 
has  the  fame  tendency  to  promote  an  equal  diftribution 
of  knowledge,  and  to  make  us  emphatically  a  <^  repub- 
lic of  letters :"  I  would  not  be  underftood,  adepts  in 
the  fine  arts,  but  participants  of  ufeful  knowledge. 

In  the  monarchical  and  ariftocratic  governments 
of  Europe,  the  cafe  is  far  different.  A  few  privileged 
orders  monopolize  not  only  the  wealth  and  honors,  but 
the  knowledge  of  their  country.  They  produce  a  few 
profound  fcholars,  who  make  ftudy  the  bufinefs  of  their 
lives  ;  we  acquire  a  portion  of  fcience,  as  a  neceffary 
inftrument  of  livelihood,  and  deem  it  abfurd  to  devote 
our  whole  lives  to  the  acquifition  of  implements,  with- 
out having  it  in  our  power  to  make  them  ufeful  to 
ourfelves  or  others. 

They  have  their  thoufands  who  are  totally  ignorant 
of  letters  ;  we  have  but  very  few,  who  are  not  inftru(5l- 
ed  in  the  rudiments  of  fcience.  They  may  boaft  a  fmall 
number  of  mafters  in  the  fine  arts  *,  we  are  all  fcholars 
in  the  ufeful ;  and  employed  in  improving  the  works  of 
nature,  rather  than  imitating  them. 

So  ftrong  is  our  propenfity  to  ufeful  employments, 
and  fo  fure  the  reward  of  thofe  who  purfue  them,  that 
ncceflity,  "  the  mother  of  invention,"  has  reared  but 
few  profeflionril  poets,  painters,  or  muficians  among  us. 
Thofe,  wno  have  occafionally  purfued  the  imitative  arts, 
from  natural  inclination,  have  given  fufficient  proof,  that 
even  in  them,  our  capacity  and  genius  are  not  inferiour 
to  thofe  of  Europeans  •,  but  the  encouragement  they 
have  met  Ihows  that  the  fpirit  of  our  habits  and  gov- 
ernment tend  rather  to  general  improvement  in  the 
ufeful,  than  partial  perfection  in  the  amufing  arts. 


300         THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 


. 


Extract  from  an  Oration,  delivered  at 
Boston,  March  5th,  1780  j  by  Jonathan  Ma» 

SON,  JUN.  ESQ^ 

THE  rlfmg  glory  of  this  weftern  hemifphere  is  al- 
ready announced  ;  and  fhe  is  fummoned  to  her 
feat  among  the  nations  of  the  earih.  We  have  piib- 
lickly  declared  ourfelves  convinced  of  the  deftrudlive 
tendency  of  {landing  armies.  We  have  acknowledged 
the  neceflity  of  public  fpirit  and  the  love  of  virtue,  to 
the  happinefs  of  any  people  ;  and  we  profefs  to  be  fen- 
fible  of  the  great  bleffings  that  flow  from  them.  Let 
us  not  then  acl  unw^orthily  of  the  reputable  character 
we  now  fuftain.  Let  integrity  of  heart,  the  fpirit  of 
freedom,  and  rigid  virtue  be  feen  to  a<Stuate  every 
member  of  the  commonv/ealth. 

The  trial  of  our  patriotifm  is  yet  before  us  ;  and  we 
have  reafon  to  thank  Heaven,  that  its  principles  are  fo 
well  known  and  diffufed.  Exercife  towards  each  other 
the  benevolent  feelings  of  friendihip  ;  and  let  that  uni^ 
ty  of  fentiment,  which  has  fhown  in  the  held,  be  equal- 
ly animating  in  our  councils.  Remember  that  prof- 
perity  is  dangerous  ;  that  though  fuccefsful,  we  are  not 
infallible. 

Let  this  facred  maxim  receive  the  deepeft  impreifion 
upon  our  minds,  that  if  avarice,  if  extortion,  if  luxury, 
and  political  corruption,  are  fuffered  to  become  popu- 
lar among  us,  civil  difcord,  and  the  ruin  of  our  coun- 
try will  be  the  fpeedy  confcquence  of  fuch  fatal  vices. 
But  while  patriotifm  is  the  leading  principle,  and  our 
laws  are  contrived  with  wifdom,  and  executed  with 
vigour  ;  while  induftry,  frugality,  and  temperance,  are 
held  in  eftimation,  and  we  depend  upon  public  fpirit 
and  the  love  of  virtue  for  our-focial  happinefs,  peace 
and  affluence  will  throw  their  fmiles  upon  the  brow  of 
individuals  ;  our  commonwealth  will  flourifli ;  our  land 
will  become  a  land  of  liberty,  and  AMERICA  an  afy- 
lum  for  the  opprefled. 

END. 


1 


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